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their whole-souled song. But I am running too much to words. It was but a little occasion, one of anti-slavery's outcast occasions, yet the greatest I have seen. Sublime in its fewness and simplicity. Such as Numbers, and Pomp, and Pretension, under whatever name, never can show-a sample of this world, when it shall become as it should be,-when slavery will be unknown in it, and all those hateful artificialities that produce slavery, and which are worse than inefficient, when used for its overthrow. Such was the little anti-slavery feast at Somersworth, held in memory of the suppressed Herald of Freedom, and in assertion of its principles which cannot be suppressed. The dear friends will be surprised that I give it to print,--for they made no ado about it, and had no thought it would ever be recorded, except, perhaps, in the hearts that were there to partake of it. Yet they will all bear me witness, that there is no small social spot so green as this, in all their memory. They all felt it so, and will so remember it. And it is sample of the New Hampshire Anti-slavery Society-in whose name Free Speech and the volunteer Press have been put to death. And it is sample, moreover, the spirit that pervades the Anti-slavery People of the entire country-who will not, I think, allow themselves to be dragged at the chariot wheels of Boardship and Semi-moral Corporation, to grace its triumphs.

Yours, for Free Meeting and the Spontaneous Press,

N. P. ROGERS.

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Where woman has never a soul to save,

If THIS is Christian work!

"Work-work-work!

Till the brain begins to swim! Work-work-work!

Till the eyes are heavy and dim! Seam, and gusset, and band,

Band, and gusset, and seam, Till over the buttons I fall asleep, And sew them on in my dream!

"Oh! men with sisters dear!

Oh! men with mothers and wives!
It is not linen you're wearing out,
But human creatures' lives!
Stitch-stitch-stitch! .

In poverty, hunger, and dirt
Sewing at once, with a double thread,
A SHROUD as well as a shirt!

"But why do I talk of death,
That phantom of grisly bone;
I hardly fear his terrible shape,
It seems so like my own-
It seems so like my own,
Because of the fast I keep :

Oh God! that bread should be so dear,
And flesh and blood so cheap!

"Work-work-work!

My labor never flags;

And what are its wages? A bed of straw,
A crust of bread-and rags :

A shattered roof-and this naked floor-
A table-a broken chair-

And a wall so blank my shadow I thank
For sometimes falling there!

"Work-work-work!

From weary chime to chime; Work-work-work!

As prisoners work, for crime! Band, and gusset, and seam,

Seam, and gusset, and band,

Till the heart is sick and the brain benumbed, As well as the weary hand!

"Work-work-work,

In the dull December light :

And work-work-work!

When the weather is warm and bright:

While underneath the eaves

The brooding swallows cling,

As if to show me their sunny backs,
And twit me with the Spring.

"Oh! but to breathe the breath

Of the cowslip and primrose sweet;

With the sky above my head,

And the grass beneath my feet:

For only one short hour

To feel as I used to feel,

Before I knew the woes of want,

And the walk that costs a meal!

"Oh! but for one short hour!

A respite, however brief!
No blessed leisure for love or hope,
But only time for grief!

A little weeping would ease my heart-
But in their briny bed

My tears must stop, for every drop

Hinders needle and thread!"

With fingers weary and worn,
With eyelids heavy and red,
A woman sat, in unwomanly rags,
Plying her needle and thread;
Stitch-stitch-stitch!

In poverty, hunger and dirt;

And still with a voice of dolorous pitch-
Would that its tone could reach the rich!-

She sung this "Song of the Shirt!"

RADICALISM.

Simply speaking, radicalism is that which goes to the root of things, and is, therefore, necessary to all thorough reform or investigation. It is the opposite of superficial-ism. Without it no man ever attains to any thing great, morally or intellectually. It is the corner stone of all true reform, of all true character. He who is afraid of it is a coward, he who persecutes it is a bigot, he who despises it is a fool. I write now of radicalism in its simplest sense, and according to its literal meaning.

But there is a radicalism, so called, which is as great a nuisance as genuine radicalism is a virtue,-a radicalism which is as destitute of reason as it is of principle, and is as devoid of both as a hen is of teeth.

This radicalism is a loud talking, boastful, braggart sort of a thing, destitute of all religion, all reverence, all decency, all cleanliness, all refinement, all delicacy, all honesty, all honor, and all love-and is therefore repulsive to every person of the least elevation of soul, and is in harmony only with beasts and reptiles. Its principles are "loaves," and its priests are "loafers." It has a filthy mouth, and a filthy taste—and outwardly and inwardly is full of all uncleanness. It is a combination of envy, jealousy, prejudice, ignorance, sensualism, brutality, indolence, and spleen. It hates every thing better than itself, and therefore has no need of social affection,—which principle, indeed, has no part in its composition. It is full of partiality and of hypocrisy, and to the one idea, or fragment of an idea, to which it clings most tenaciously, is willing to sacrifice the whole decalogue, and all who have any respect for it. It has volumes to say about elevating the people, while by its every hour's example it is leading them into the deepest degradation. It is fond of the lowest and most disgusting amusements,—and turns up its nose at any thing polished or elegant with an instinct worthy of its parent sty. Under its auspices rowdyism flourishes like a bed of weeds,—and gross

ness, vulgarity, and bad manners find in it their most vigorous nourishment. In fact, to use a comparison somewhat in keeping with the subject, it serves as manure to every low and degrading vice in the community.

I devote a little space to the exposure of this sort of radicalism, because it is stupidly, and somewhat viciously, confounded with that true and wholesome radicalism which is the vital energy of every progressive soul, and because it frequently rears up its hideous front in the reform field, and, by its loud braying, forces to itself a large degree of attention, and passes itself off upon ignorant and short-sighted people, as the head and front of the radical movement.

This false radicalism is as destitute of the spirit of reform, as a hyena is of love, or as carrion is of sweetness. Wherever it sees cleanliness, and refinement, and beauty, or discovers any attempt to realize them, it sees a mark for its coarse ridicule and its nauseous criticism. Whoever will not be "hail fellow! well met!" with it, is looked upon as a tyrant or an aristocrat,-while the man whose natural distaste for the filthy and obscene leads him to shun it as he would a pestilence-is pounced upon forthwith as an enemy of the dear people. A clean shirt is enough to excite its wrath at any time,—and the slightest polish on the boot will set it raving in an instant. It hates water like the mad dog which is its appropriate type and emblem ;—and for pure air and the fragrance of green fields, has a democratic contempt which is nourished to its fullest extent on tobacco smoke and snuff. Its raiment is the filth which is constantly generating from its unwashed skin; its vernacular, impertinence and brutality; its home, the heart of the lazy and licentious.

I have thus given a tame and insufficient picture of a type of radicalism whose brawls and broils are becoming daily more frequent, and whose character ought long since to have been sketched by a more bold and glowing pencil. And yet, faint as is my representation, infinitely short as it is of what might be truly said, I am certain the picture will be quickly recognized by all except the imbruted and blear-eyed original.

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