I AM about to sketch the history and character of one of those extraordinary men, whom Providence, from time to time, raises up for the accomplishment of great, benign, and far-reaching results. I am about to supply the clearest evidence that there is no insuperable barrier between the light and the dark-coloured tribes of our common human species. I am about to exhibit, in a series of indisputable facts, a proof that the much misunderstood and downtrodden negro race are capable of the loftiest virtues, and the most heroic efforts. I am about to present a tacit parallel between white men and dark men, in which the latter will appear to no disadvantage. Neither eulogy, however, nor disparagement is my aim, but the simple love of justice. It is a history—not an argument—that I purpose to set forth. In prosecuting the narrative, I shall have to conduct the reader through scenes of aggression, resistance, outrage, revenge, bloodshed, and cruelty, that grieve and wound the hear, and exciting the deepest pity for the sufferers, raise irrepressible indignation against ambition, injustice and tyranny—the scourges of the world, and specially the sources of complicated and horrible calamities to the natives of Africa.

The western portion of the North Atlantic Ocean is separated from the Caribbean Sea on the south, and the Gulf of Mexico on the north, by a succession of islands which, under the name of the West India Isles, seem to unite in a broken and waving line, the two great peninsulas of South and North America. Of these islands, which, under the general title of the Antilles, are divided into several groups, the largest and the most important are, Porto Rico on the east, Cuba on the west, and St. Domingo between the two, with Jamaica laying on the western extremity of the latter. Situated between the seventeenth and twentieth degree of north latitude, Saint Domingo stretches from east to west about 390 miles, with and average breadth, form north to south, of 100 miles, and comprises about 29,000 square miles, or 18,816,000 square acres;—being four times as large as Jamaica, and nearly equal in extent to Ireland. Its original name, and that by which it is now generally known, Hayti—which, in the Caribbean tongue, signifies a land of mountains—is truly descriptive of its surface and general appearance. From a ventral point, which near the middle of the island rises to the height of some 6,000 feet above the level of the sea, branches, having parallel ranges on the north and on the south, run through the whole length of the island,— giving it somewhat the shape and aspect of a huge tortoise. The mountain ridges for the most part extend to the sea, above which they stand in lofty precipices, forming numerous headlands and promontories; or, retiring before the ocean, give place to ample and commodious bays. Of these bays and harbours, three deserve mention; not only for their extraordinary natural capabilities, but for the frequency with which two of them, at least, will appear in these pages. On the north-west of Hayti, is the Bay of Samana, with its deep recesses and curving shores, terminating in Cape Samana on the north, and Cape Raphail on the south. At the opposite end of the country, is the magnificent harbour called the Bay Port au Prince, enclosing the long and rocky isle Gonave—on the north of which is the channel St. Marc, and on the south the channel Gonave. Important as is the part which this harbour sustains in the history of the land, scarcely, if at all less important, is the bay which has Cape François for its western point, and Grange for its eastern, comprising on the latter side the minor, but well-sheltered Bay of Mancenille; and in the former, the large roadstead of Cape François.

The mountains running east and west break asunder, and sink down, so as to form three spacious valleys, which are watered by the three principal rivers. The River Youna, having its sources in Mount La Vega, in the north-east of the island, and receiving many tributaries from the north and the south, issues in the Bay of Samana. The Grand Yaque, rising on the western side of the Watershed—of which La Vega may be considered as the dividing line,—flows through the lengthened plain of St. Jago, until it reaches the sea in the Bay of Mancenille. The chief river is the Artibonite, on the west, which, having its ultimate springs in the central group of mountains, waters the valleys of St. Thomas, of Banica, of Goave; and turning suddenly to the north, along the western side of the mountains of Cahos, falls into the ocean a little south of the Bay of Gonaives, after a long and winding course. While these rivers run from east to west and west to east, innumerable streams flow in a northern and southern direction, proceeding at right angles from the branches of the great trunk. Hayti is a well-watered land; especially is it so in the west, where several lakes and tarns adorn and enrich the country. The more eastern districts are rugged as well as lofty, but the other parts are beautifully diversified with romantic glens, prolific vales, and rank savannahs. Though so mountainous, the surface is overspread with vegetation, the highest summits being crowned with forests. Placed with the tropics, Hayti has a hot yet humid climate, with a temperature of very great variations—so that while in the deep valleys the sun is almost intolerable, on the loftiest mountains of the interior, a fire is often necessary to comfort. The ardour of the sun is on the coast moderated by the sea and land breezes, which blow in succession. Heavy rains fall in the months of May and June. Hurricanes are less frequent in Hayti than the rest of the Antilles. The climate, however, is liable to great and sudden changes, which bringing storm, tempest, and sunshine, with the intensity of tropical lands, now alarm and now enervate the natives, and often prove very injurious to Europeans. On so rich a soil human life is easily supported, and the inducements to the labours of industry are neither numerous nor strong. Yet, in auspicious periods of its history, Hayti has been made abundantly productive.

At the time when the hero and patriot whose career we have to describe first appeared on the scene, the island was divided between two European powers; the east was possessed by the Spaniards, the west and south by the French. It is with the latter portion that this history is mostly concerned. Of the Spanish possessions, therefore, it may suffice to direct attention to two principal cities. The oldest European city is Santo Domingo, which had the honour of giving a name to the whole island. It was founded by Bartholomew, the brother of Columbus, who is said to have so called it in honour of his father, who bore that name. Santo Domingo stands in the south-eastern part of the island, at the north of the River Ozama. Santiago holds a fine position in the plain of that name, near the northern end of a line passing somewhere about the middle of the island. The French colony was divided into three provinces—that of the north, that of the west, and that of the south. At the beginning of the French Revolution of 1789, these provinces were transformed into three corresponding departments. The three provinces, or departments, were subdivided into twelve districts, each bearing the name of its chief city. The twelve districts were—in the north, the Cape, or Cap François, Fort Dauphin, Port-de-Paix, Môle Saint Nicholas; in the west, Port-au-Prince, Leogane, Saint Marc, Petit Goave; and in the south, Jérémie, Cape Tiburon, Cayes and St., Louis. The district of the Cape comprised the Cape, La Plaine-du-Nord, just above the Cape, Limonade, between the two; Acul, west of the Cape, and on the coast, Sainte Suzanne; with Morin, La Grande Rivière, Dondon, Marmelade, Limbé, Port Margot, Plaisance, and Borgne—thirteen parishes. The district Fort Dauphin, in the east of the northern department, comprised Fort Dauphin itself, Ouanaminthe, on the South of it, Vallière, Terrier Rouge, and Trou—five parishes. The district of the Port-de-Paix comprised, Port-de-Paix, Petit-Saint-Louis, Jean Rabel, and Gros Morne—four parishes. The district of the Mole Saint Nicholas comprised Saint Nicholas and Bombarde, two parishes. There were thus four-and-twenty parishes in the northern department. The district Port-au-Prince comprised, Port-au-Prince, Croix-des-Bosquets, on the north, Arcahaye on the north-west, and Mirebalais on the north-east —four parishes. The district of Léogane was identical with the parish of the same name. The district of Saint Marc comprised, Saint Marc, Petite Rivière, Gonaives—three parishes. The district of Petit-Goave comprised Petit Goave, Grand Goave, Baynet, Jacmel, and Cayes-Jacmel—five parishes. Fourteen parishes made up the western province. The district Jérémie comprised Jérémie and Cap Dame-Marie—two parishes. The district of Tiburon comprised Cape Tiburon and Coteaux—two parishes. The district of Cayes comprised Cayes and Torbeck —two parishes. The district of Saint Louis comprised, Saint Louis, Anse-Veau, Fond-Cavaillon and Acquin—five parishes. There were eleven parishes in the south.

The study of the map will show that these, the districts under the dominion of France, covered only the west of the island. As, however, they contained the chief centres of civilization, and the chief places which occur in this history, our end is answered by the geographical details now given.

The appearance of the island from the ocean is thus described by an eye-witness:—“The bold outlines of the mountains, which in many places approached to within twenty miles of the shore, and the numerous stupendous cliffs which beetled over it, casting their shadows to a great distance in the deep,—the dark retreating bays, particularly that of Samana, and extensive plains opening inland between the lofty cloud-covered hills, or running for uncounted leagues by the sea side, covered with trees and bushes, but affording no glimpse of a human habitation,—presented a picture of gloom and grandeur, calculated deeply to impress the mind; such a picture as dense solitude, unenlivened by a single trace of civilization, is ever apt to produce. Where, we inquire of ourselves, are the people of this country? Where its cultivation? Are the ancient Indian possessors of the soil all extinct, and their cruel conquerors and successors entombed with them in a common grave? For hundreds of miles, as we swept along its shores, we saw no living thing, but now and then a mariner in a solitary skiff, or birds of the land and ocean sailing in the air, as if to show us that nature had not wholly lost its animation, and sunk into the sleep of death.”*

The interior of Hayti, however, lacks neither inhabitants nor natural beauty. The mountains rise in bold and varying outline against the brilliant skies, and in almost every part form a background of great and impressive effect. Broken by deep ravines, and appearing in bare and rugged precipices, they present a continued variety of imposing objects which sometimes rise into the sublime. The valleys and plains are rich at once in verdure and beauty, while from elevated spots you may enjoy the sight of the great centres of civilization, Cap-Français, Port-de-Paix, Saint-Marc, Port-au-Prince, &c., busy in the various pursuits of city and commercial life. Alas! that scenes so attractive should, at the time our narrative commences, have been disturbed and made repulsive by the forced labour of myriads of human beings occupied on the numerous plantations, which , but for greed, and oppression, and cruelty, would themselves have multiplied the natural charms of the island.

The wealth of Hayti comes from its soil. It is an essentially agricultural country. Cereal products are not cultivated; but maize or Indian corn grows there; and rice flourishes in the savannahs. The negro lives on manioc chiefly, and obtains other breadstuffs from the United States and from Canada. There are, however, other substances which supply him with food when corn fails—such as bananas, yams, and potatoes. Plantation tillage is the chief occupation. This culture embraces sugar, coffee, cotton, indigo, and cotton. In 1789, the French portion of the island contained 793 sugar plantations, 3,117 coffee plantations, 789 cotton plantations, and 182 establishments for making rum, besides other minor factories and workshops. In 1791, very large capitals were employed in carrying on these cultivations; the capitals were sunk partly in slaves and partly in implements of husbandry; in the cultivation of sugar there was employed a capital of above fifty millions of livres;* *A livre, or franc, is worth about ten pence of our money. forty-six millions in coffee, and twenty-one millions in cotton; and in 1776, there was employed a capital of sixty-three millions in the cultivation of indigo. The total value of the plantations was immense, as may be learnt from the fact, that the value of the products of the French portion was estimated, In 1767 at 75,000,000 francs." 1774 " 82,000,000 "" 1776 " 95,148,500"" 1789 " 175,990,00 "

The last value is the highest. The sum represents the supreme pressure of servitude, and is consequently a measure of the injury done to the black dwellers in Saint Domingo. Already, in 1801, the value fell to 65,352,039—in other words, the slave-masters were, at the end of two years, punished for their injustice and tyranny by the immediate loss of nearly two-thirds of their property; so uncertain is the tenure of ill-gotten gain. Among the territorial riches of Hayti, its beasts of burden and oxen must take a high position. In 1789, the soil supported 57,782 horses; 48,823 mules, and 247,612 horned cattle.

Hayti possesses an abundant source of opulence in its numerous forests, which produce various kinds of precious wood employed in making and decorating furniture and articles of taste.

In 1791, goods exported from Hayti to France to the value of 133, 534, 423 francs—that is, above five millions sterling. The entire value of the territorial riches of the chief plantations, including slaves, amounted to no less a sum than 991,893,334 francs. Curious is it in the statistical table issued by authority, whence we learn these particulars, to see “negroes and animals employed in husbandry” put into the same class. Observe, too, the items. The value of the “negroes old and new, large and small” is set down at 758,333,334 francs, while the other animals are worth 5, 226,667 francs. We thus learn, that three-fourths of the wealth of the planters consisted in their slaves. Such was the stake which was at issue in the struggle for freedom of which we are about to speak.

The population of Hayti was, in the year 1824, accounted to amount to 935,335 individuals. This is not a large number for so fertile a land. But it has been questioned whether more than 700,000 dwelt on the soil. Doubtless, the wars which have successively agitated the country for more than half a century, have greatly thinned the population. There has, however, been a constant immigration to Hayti from neighbouring islands, and even from the continent of America. Of the total number of inhabitants just given, there were, in 1824, In the Kingdom of Henry I. (Christophe) . . . . . 367,721In the Republic, under Pétion . . . . . 506,146In the old Spanish District . . . . . 61, 468935,335

WE owe the discovery of Hayti to Columbus. When on his first voyage he had left the Leucayan islands, he, on the fifth of December, 1492, came in sight of Hayti, which at first he regarded as the Continent. Having, under the shelter of a bay, cast anchor at the western extremity of the island, and named the spot Saint Nicholas, in honour of the saint of the day, he sent men to explore the country. These, on their return, made to Columbus a report, which was the more attractive, because they had found in the new country resemblances to their native land. A similar impression having been made on Columbus, especially by the songs which he heard in the air, and by fishes which had been caught on the coast, he named the island Espagnola, (Hispaniola,) or Little Spain. Forthwith on his arrival, Columbus began to inquire for gold; the answers which he received, induced him to direct his course towards the south. On his way, he entered a port which he called Valparaiso, now Port-de-Paix; and in this and a second visit occupied and named other spots, taking possession of the country on behalf of his patrons Ferdinand and Isabella, sovereigns of Spain. The return of Columbus to Europe, after his first voyage, was accompanied by triumphs and marvels which directed the attention of the civilised world to the newly-discovered countries; and, exciting ambition and cupidity, originated the movement which precipitated Europeans on the American shores, and not only occasioned there oppression and cruelty, but introduced with African blood worse than African slavery, big with evils the most multiform and the most terrible.

At the time of its discovery, Hayti was occupied by—if we may trust the reports—a million of inhabitants, of the Caribbean race: they were dark in colour, short and small in person, and simple in their modes of life. Amid the abundance of nature, they easily gained a subsistence, and passed their many leisure hours either in unthinking repose, or in dances, enlivened by drums and varied with songs. Polygamy was not only practised but sanctioned. A petty sovereign is said to have had a harem of two-and-thirty wives. Standing but a few degrees above barbarism, the natives were under the dominion of five petty kings or chiefs, called Caciques, who possessed absolute power; and were subject to the yet more rigorous sway of priests or Butios, to whom superstition lent an influence which was the greater because it included the resources of the physician as well as those of the enchanter. Under a repulsive exterior, the Haytians, however, acknowledged a supreme power—the Author of all things, and entertained a dim idea of a future life, involving rewards and punishments correspondent to their low moral condition and gross conceptions.

The large black population of Hayti was of African origin. Having been stolen from their native land, they were transplanted in the island to become beasts of burden to their masters. The infamous slave-trade was then at its height. Nations and individuals who stood at the head of the civilised world, and prided themselves in the name of Christian, were not ashamed to traffic in the bodies and the souls of their fellow-men. Three hundred vessels, employed every year in that detestable traffic, spread robbery, conflagration, and carnage over the coasts and the lands of Africa. Eighty thousand men, women and children, torn from their homes, were loaded with chains, and thrown into the holds of the ships, a prey to desolation

IT is not to be supposed that Toussaint read the sacred Scriptures with a critical eye. Unversed in the science of Biblical interpretation, he could do no more than receive such impressions as certain great outstanding facts were fitted to produce. Nor, however valuable for its own purposes a scientific acquaintance with the Divine Word may be, did he need more than he and every other sensible person could gather from the general tenour and prominent aims of the Bible. There might even be particular passages which he was unable to comprehend in the harmony of scriptural truth, and a religious disputant might have found no great difficulty in presenting to his mind considerations wearing on the surface an appearance adverse to his general convictions. But those convictions would rest on such broad and deep foundations, and occupy in his mind so large a space; they would in themselves be so full, and so vivid, and so far-reaching, that as he reflected on them more and more, and they thus became an integral element in his mind, he could in no way doubt that slavery was disallowed by the Bible, and was adverse to the genius, the aims, and the operation of the Gospel.

Slavery, it is true, he found in the Scriptures. But how? Not as an institution of Divine origin. Moses found slavery in common practice; and unable to abolish it, did his best to mitigate its evils. And the system of servitude which he left rather than sanctioned, involved none of those atrocities which make American slavery so offensive and so baneful. The aim and tendency of slavery among the Hebrews, was the improvement of such as were under the yoke. Being of foreign extraction for the most part, slaves were permitted to enter ‘the commonwealth of Israel,’ by undergoing the distinctive rite of circumcision. (Gen. xvii. 23, 27.) Thus raised from a slave into a Hebrew, the slave had before him a brightening future, and could share in the privilege, and partake of the advantages, of worshipping the Creator of heaven and earth. Like England, Canaan was a land of refuge for slaves. The moment they touched that sacred soil they were free. Fugitive slaves could in no wise by delivered up to their masters, nor might they be reduced into bondage by Israelites. They chose their own residence, and followed their own pursuits. (Deut. xxiii. 16, et seq.) Expressly was it forbidden that a Hebrew should sell himself to a fellow-Hebrew as a bond-servant, and if one Hebrew hired himself to another Hebrew, he with his children obtained his liberty unconditionally at the end of six years at the furthest, or at the jubilee next ensuing after his service began. (Lev. xxv. 39,40.) And he might be redeemed at an earlier day by either himself or a relative. (Lev. xxv. 48,49.) Even thieves, who, when detected, were, in consequence of not being able to make compensation, put into servitude to Israelites, benefited by the laws regarding emancipation. As it was not permitted to send back or enslave a fugitive slave of foreign blood, so was it unlawful to sell a Hebrew to a foreign master. (Exod. xxi. 7—11)

These facts are the more striking, when we take into account the general practice of the slave trade in the ancient Eastern world. Egypt, which lay on the borders of Palestine, was a great slave mart. The long sea-board of Palestine afforded peculiar facilities for the detestable traffic. Streams of wealth would have poured into the land, had Israel encouraged the trade. The temptation was great. But religion was too strong for cupidity, and the people of God disallowed the commerce in human flesh generally, and modified their prescriptive usages so as to abate the evils and diminish the observance of slavery in their own territories.

Among the mitigations of their lot guaranteed to slaves by Moses were the following:—1. Entire rest from labour every seventh day. (Exod. xx. 10.) Noble recognition of man's religious nature and religious wants! 2. Immunity from deadly or cruel punishments. If a servant lost an eye or a tooth from a blow given by his master, he was thereon rendered free; if a slave died under a master's hand, the master underwent due retribution. (Exod. xxi. 20, et seq.) When advocates of slavery as it is in the United States cite in argument the Mosaic institutions, they would do well to give special attention to these merciful regulations. 3. Slaves were to join the Hebrew family in their rejoicings on occasions of religious festivity. (Deut. xii. 12, 18; xvi. 11, 14.) 4. Slaves recovered their freedom in the year of jubilee, and the bondman was not to go away with empty hands: “Thou shalt furnish him liberally our of thy flock, and out of thy flour, and out of thy winepress.” The reason assigned is forcible; “Thou shalt remember that thou wast a bondman in the land of Egypt, and the Lord thy God redeemed thee. (Deut. xv. 13 et seq.; compare Exod. xxi. 2—4.) 5. A servant might not wish to leave his master's house; having been treated well, he had formed attachments and become one of the family: “If, therefore, he shall plainly say, I love my master, I will not go out free, then shall his master bring him unto the judges;” and his will being ascertained by a judicial investigation, he was permitted to remain in his own freely-chosen condition of domestic servitude. (Exod. xxi. 5,6.) 6. A Hebrew bondsman was allowed to acquire and hold property, with which he might purchase his freedom. (Lev. xxxv. 49.) 7. If a master had no sons, a Hebrew slave might aspire to his daughter's hand. (I Chron. ii., 35.)*

On reviewing the features of the Mosaic slave code, could Toussaint for a moment identify its provisions with the Code Noir of Louis XIV., or with the system practised in Hayti? The contrast was too evident. Then did Toussaint see a slave, in some happy year of jubilee, going forth from bondage with a liberal supply from his master's flock, his master's barn, and his master's wine-cellar? Did he himself ever even think of asking for the hand, not of his master's daughter, but of his master's steward's daughter? Did he ever witness even a slave-driver punished for cruelly treating a slave? Could he point to a neighbouring land whose very air gave a slave his freedom the moment he breathed it? Did Spanish Hayti refuse to deliver up fugitive slaves to French Hayti, and did French Hayti refuse to deliver up fugitive slaves to Spanish Hayti?

But, it is objected, Christianity finding slavery in existence, did not proscribe it. Christianity did more than proscribe slavery—it undermined slavery; and wherever it prevailed in deed rather than profession, it brought slavery to the ground. The objection, if rightly stated, is this, and nothing more—namely, that the original promulgators of the Gospel did not commence an active and open crusade against slavery. The reason is, that they had an object before them higher than any immediate good. They waged no war against Roman despotism. They left, even on their native hills, the degenerate family of Herod in undisturbed possession of power. Their mission was not to remodel institutions, but to reform society. Their work was not to reap a premature and perishing harvest, but to sow the seed of quickening principles and imperishable sympathies. Disregarding thrones, principalities, and dominions, they went forth to preach the word of a new individual life, well aware that the acorn, in due time, would become an oak. Nor were their efforts nugatory. Within three centuries slavery was abolished in the Roman empire. And at this moment—such is the extensive and ever-living power of the Gospel—slavery, throughout the world, is tottering to its fall.

But chiefly, when he meditated on the words and the objects of the Saviour of the world, did Toussaint feel how incompatible slavery was with Christianity. Had he not, in those impressive words, “where the Spirit of the Lord is there is liberty.” (2 Cor. iii. 17,) found the enunciation of a great Christian principle, and the announcement of a great Christian power, which must of necessity, as it was designed, break asunder every outward bond and emancipate every slave on earth? And in what terms did the Lord himself announce his mission? Toussaint, in thought, made one of his auditors in that small synagogue at Nazareth, where the Redeemer of men astounded his townsfolk and relatives by declaring, in words of the widest import, as he ushered in the grand spiritual jubilee, and so gave to all the subjects of His new kingdom liberty of body in giving them liberty of soul: “The Spirit of Jehovah is upon me, because He hath anointed me to preach glad tidings to the poor, He hath sent me to declare deliverance to the captives, and recovery of sight to the blind; to set at liberty those that are oppressed; to proclaim the acceptable year of Jehovah.” “To-day is this Scripture fulfilled in your ears.” (Luke iv. 18, et seq.) Unmistakable must Toussaint have found the import of these words. The great year of jubilee had come—the slave was free—slavery was abolished; not only that corporeal slavery which Moses tolerated, but the heavier slavery; which man, in consequence of sin, endured;— slavery of soul and, consequently, slavery of body was abrogated and destroyed. The blow was struck, and the dark edifice would inevitably fall. How could Toussaint hear from the lips of Christ himself that he came expressly to deliver the captive, and set the oppressed at liberty, without feeling that if he yielded to the grand thought which already swelled his breast, and became the liberator of the negro race, he would thereby be not a follower only, but a fellow-worker with “the Lord from heaven?” How could he learn, on infallible authority, that God, who had “made of one blood all nations,” (Acts xvii. 26,) had, in his Son, opened and proclaimed the year of universal jubilee, and therefore, inaugurated the period of universal emancipation; and yet, with his convictions and sympathies, fail to conclude that on him too had, by the hand of Providence, been devolved a share in the truly religious task of liberating and upraising a cruelly oppressed and deeply injured tribe?

If from the Master, Toussaint turned to the greatest of his disciples, and asked Paul what, on this point, were the principles of the religion of Jesus, he learned that while the apostle urged no one in actual circumstances to hurry from the condition in which he was born, and judged that it was better to endure wrong than prematurely, and to the peril of the cause of Christ, disturb existing relations, and thereby convulse society already fearfully agitated, yet he recognised as equally members of the Christian church, and accessible to the same rights, immunities, and privileges, the bond and the free; (2 Cor. xii. 13;) and viewing the whole of human kind as divided into these two classes—in their high relations to God arid Christ and each other, declared that all outward distinctions had ceased, and must practically, in time, come to an end, for that there was no longer bond or free, any more than Barbarian or Scythian, but all were “one in Christ Jesus.” (Gal. iii. 28; Col. iii. 11.) What! could the glowing terms in which the apostle—returning again and again to the subject, as if his soul was on fire with the thought—sets forth not only the equality of all the tribes of earth, but their essential unity;—could those terms be heard by the Roman slave in the primitive church, and not make his bosom swell and glow with the idea that he too was a man, that he too was free, that he too was comprehended in “the redemption which was in Christ Jesus?” And that idea once deep in his bosom, the rupture of his material bonds was merely an affair of time. Men, who know that they are men, cannot long be hold in bondage. Conscious children of God will not be slaves to selfish and brutal men. Those who feel that they have been purchased by Christ, the Son of God, may indeed “bide their time,” but cannot be permanently held in the degrading and polluting condition of slavery. Yes, wisely for your own bad purposes, do ye, slave masters, keep the light of divine truth from your unhappy victims, or permit them to see it only through the discolouring medium of a ministration which stoops to make a gain of godliness; wisely for your own purposes do ye keep the Bible a scaled book on your plantations, or set hirelings to pervert its glorious and emancipating tidings; for otherwise your dominion would be shorter than in God's providence it is intended to be. But the day cometh; “the Lord is at hand.”

You point me to the conduct of Paul? You tell me that Paul sent back Onesimus into slavery? You ask me if Toussaint in his scriptural studies comprised the Epistle to Philemon? and you triumphantly intimate that, by that example, his emancipating ardour ought to have been checked. I reply that the Epistle to Philemon is a plea against slavery; that if Toussaint comprehended what he read, he would thereby be greatly confirmed and built up in his righteous and most Christian purposes; and that if your own eyes were only free from the scales of prejudice and mistaken self-interest, they too would discern, in that letter, principles which are utterly inconsistent with the continuance of the abominable system of which you are the supporters.

The Epistle of Paul to Philemon is the most pregnant of compositions. Never was so much meaning compressed into so few words. And then, how weighty the topics. How much of doctrine is there in those few verses; how much of history. And the doctrine and the history are so presented, that while you cannot deny the history, you are encouraged to receive the doctrine. The letter is a series of implications;—implied facts, implied principles, implied duties, implied changes and triumphs, set forth in all the unconscious simplicity of a private and confidential communication, so as to conciliate attention and win belief. I hold this short Epistle to be of itself an antidote to scepticism and a confutation of slavery.

The letter, I have intimated, is a series of implications. It is also a group of pictures. First mark that fugitive slave hurrying from Colossæ, in Asia Minor, down to the shores of the Mediterranean sea. What a fell expression of countenance he has, as of one who, if well-endowed by nature, had been made bad by servitude, and who had had long and varied practice in misdoing. How stealthy are his steps, how clownish, yet how timid his manner! Ever and anon he casts back his anxious eyes as if he feared pursuit, and from the face of every one whom he encounters, he turns away, as if he dreaded to be recognised. At last, reaching the sea, he hastens on ship-board, and concealing himself in the most secret part of the vessel, effects his escape, and is carried to Rome,—that city which the greatest of ancient historians has described as the common sink of the world.*

Let a few years pass, and you may see the same person on his way back from Rome to Asia Minor and Colossæ. No longer do his movements betray fear. No longer does his countenance betoken ferocity. His steps are equable and firm. His manner discloses self-respect. He is returning with as much composure as determination, and on his way be receives and returns greetings with gentleness and confidence, as if he feared none, and wished to be friendly with all. And now that he is again on ship-board, mark how pure and refined is the expression of his face, how manly his whole bearing, as, no longer shunning the light, he walks up and down the deck, and has a good word for every one. Is this indeed the same person? It is Onesimus, the runaway slave. And he is going back to his master of his own accord. Yes, hundreds of miles does he travel on foot and by sea in order to return into bondage. Observe, he is unaccompanied. He is unmanacled; not by force, but by his own free will, is he led back to his proprietor Philemon in Colossæ.

Whence these changes? In order to understand them, you must form to yourselves another picture. There, in a small house in that narrow and secluded street of Rome, you behold an aged man, bound with a chain to that pretorian soldier, under whose custody he is night and day. That aged man is Paul the apostle of Jesus Christ; there, in that corrupt and guilty city, to answer, at the peril of his life, for daring to offer the Gospel to his countrymen in Jerusalem. Mean in person, and rude in speech, he has nevertheless preached Christ crucified with great success to the citizens. But he is oppressed with infirmities. His numerous sufferings, his long journeys, his ceaseless labours, have reduced him to that state of bodily endurance. And glad and thankful is he for humane attentions and ministries of Christian love. In that sacred work Onesimus has been engaged. Found by Paul,—and found, it may be, when the fugitive was in sickness,— he was taken to the apostle's own abode, and there cared for in mind as well as in body, until he came to possess both the ability and the will to make a return in kind to his apostolic benefactor. The reciprocation of kind offices begat mutual attachment. Learning to love the preacher, Onesimus learned also to love and to espouse his doctrine. Now, therefore, is he a Christian,—a member of Christ's spiritual body, and a sharer with Paul himself in “the liberty wherewith Christ hath made him free.“ (Gal. v. 1.) So intimate do the two friends become, that the elder regards the younger as his “son,” while the younger, loving and respecting the elder as his father, is as ready to obey as he is glad to serve him. But mark, as they sit there in that humble apartment, earnestly conversing with each other, mark the cloud that has fallen on the countenance of Onesimus. It is heavy and deep. In a moment it has disappeared. “You must return to Philemon.” These are the words which darkened that face. “Return into chains? horrible.” Shortly afterwards Onesimus is on the road.

They are great changes with which we have to do in this group of events. At the time of the publication of the Gospel, slavery was universal. Philemon, a prominent and zealous member of the church at Colossæ, held a slave by name Onesimus. Having served his master badly, Onesimus ran away. But now of his own free will he is going back into bondage. This is the first great change. Ah, how many a footstep must he set between Rome and Colossæ, and for every footstep there was an act of the will. Every act of the will said, “return to servitude.” Yet the will never faltered, and the slave's own feet brought him into the house of Philemon. But what reception might he meet with there? There would be the jeers and jibes of fellow slaves to endure. There were past neglects and misdeeds to atone for. There was an injured and an offended master to encounter. Nevertheless, of his own accord, Onesimus returns. At the first appearance, this would appear the height of folly. Masters held the power of life and death over their slaves. Onesimus had everything to fear. On what does he rely? Has be no safeguard? He has a few lines written by a poor decrepid man hundreds of miles distant. Is that all? That is all. But it is enough; Onesimus knows that it is enough. What a wonder-working power is writing! We have read of charms, magical forms, and incantations; we have read of them, and of the powers they were said to possess. But even their fancied efficacy has in it nothing surpassing the efficacy of these few Greek characters written by Paul and borne by Onesimus. Guards, prisons, and chains—they are of less potency than words. Onesimus eluded the former, and goes back under the influence of the latter. These words, a token of the apostle's will, conduct Onesimus back and protect him from the natural consequences of Philemon's wrath. Such is the sovereignty of thought. A morsel— so to say—of Paul's mind, acts with supreme control beyond lands and seas.

But the return indicates another great change. If, now, Onesimus sets his face towards the east, it is because his heart is changed. In a change of the affections, is found the cause of that change of his will. This is, indeed, a great change—a fugitive slave willingly goes back to bondage. There is no compulsion: there can be no compulsion. No spies, no catchpoles are at work. No law in Rome compels the emperor to apprehend and restore to the Colossians any of their slaves that might seek shelter in the metropolis of the world. Though slavery then prevailed throughout society, legislation had not reached the height of wickedness which compels the freeman to be a police-officer to the slaveholder. In safety, and perhaps in prosperity, might Onesimus have remained in Rome. But no! a power stronger than the imperial power itself, sends him back. Go he must, go he will, and go he does. Why? he must put that right which he left wrong; he had injured his master, he must make him compensation. And though in the matter of right, Onesimus belonged to himself and not to Philemon, yet, as the law recognised the institution of slavery, and every Christian ought to avoid even the appearance of evil, so would Onesimus return to Philemon in order to adjust their relations one with another. Those relations had assumed a new aspect. The two persons who had known each other only as master and slave, were now in Christ “brothers beloved.” And as Christians, they recognised a higher law than the world's—a law which rendered slavery impossible, but which also commanded each to do unto others as he would be done unto. Relying on the former, and acting on the latter, hoping to be set at liberty, yet believing it his duty to give Philemon an opportunity of declaring his emancipation, Onesimus has set his feet within his master's home. This, I repeat, is indeed a great change. The fugitive is the returning slave, because the slave has become a Christian. And the Christian so highly values moral obligations, that in the thought of his duties he almost forgets his rights, and at least is as regardful of the legal claims of his master, as he is of his own natural and indefeasible privileges.

Onesimus, I have intimated, regarded the legal claims of Philemon. There is no evidence that either Onesimus or Paul recognised any other claim. It was the general practice of the first disciples to pay obedience to the then existing civil laws.

This respect for existing institutions, however, was merely outward and temporary. Having its origin in prudential consideration, it came to an end as soon as duty could safely supersede expediency. Meanwhile, it implied at the bottom a disallowal of existing evils, and a determination to take the most effectual course for their abatement and removal. Tolerating slavery because it wished to take safe steps for rendering slavery impossible, it in reality hated the abomination of property in man's body and soul, and was ever silently at work to convert the slave into a man, and so to break the yoke and set the captive free. That this was the view under which Paul acted, is obvious from the language he employs in his Letter to Philemon:—

In that Letter there is first the distinct assertion of a right. It is the right of Paul to claim the freedom of Onesimus. On what was that right founded? On Christ. Paul, Philemon, and Onesimus were in Christ partners, they were sharers of a common Gospel, such is the meaning of the term “partner,” employed by Paul in the 17th verse. As having, in common, “the redemption that was in Christ Jesus,” they were alike free. Onesimus, as a Christian, was as free as Philemon, and both were equally free with Paul. Onesimus, in consequence, had a claim to be pronounced free. And that claim Paul was at full liberty to urge on Philemon.

I make this statement on the authority of the apostle's own words, as they are found in the 8th verse of the epistle; “though I might be much bold in Christ to enjoin thee that which is convenient.” This, the English version, very imperfectly represents the original. “Convenient,” is a most inadequate expression, at least in the sense in which it is now understood. Convenient with us signifies that which is easy and pleasant, rather than that which is obligatory; that which is suitable to the occasion, rather than conformable to the everlasting laws of right. The Greek word used by Paul, however, denotes that which is fit and proper, and in the third chapter of the Epistle to the Colossians, v. 18, it is rendered by the English term fit. “Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as it is fitin the Lord.” That, in this injunction, the apostle spoke of duty, of Christian obligation, and not of any temporary expediency, is clear from the corresponding passage in his Letter to the Ephesians, v. 22, where he says, “Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands as unto the Lord.” It is, then, an obligation, a Christian obligation, which Paul had the right to urge on Philemon. And this right he intimates he might freely urge. It was a manifest right; a right about which there could be no dispute between Christians; a right which the apostle was justified in urging boldly, nay, very boldly; for thus, when exactly translated, do his words run—“having much boldness in Christ, to enjoin on thee that which is proper.” Observe the term “enjoin,”—it is duties that are enjoined, not expediency. The act as described in the Greek

Besides this unquestionable right which is not disallowed, but kindly thrown into the background, there is also in the Epistle the pleading of a claim grounded on the implication of a right. The claim is that of Ones