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quently, in every part of the world, the story of his wrongs had been denied ; and it had been asserted that it was a mere work of romance, and I was charged with being the slanderer of the institutions of my own country.

“I knew that, if I shrunk from supporting my position, the sympathy which the work had excited would gradually die out, and the whole thing would be looked upon as a mere romantic excitement of the passions, without any adequate basis of facts.

“ Feeble and reduced as I was, it became absolutely necessary that I should take this opportunity, when the attention of the world was awakened, to prove the charges which I had made.

“ Neither could such a work be done slightly; for every statement was to be thrown before bitter and unscrupulous enemies, who would do their utmost to break the force of everything which was said.

“It was, therefore, necessary that not an assertion should be made without the most rigorous investigation and scrutiny; and, worn as I then was with the subject, with every nerve sensitive and sore, I was obliged to spend three months in what were to me the most agonizing researches.

“The remembrance of that winter is to me one of horror. I could not sleep at night, and I had no comfort in the daytime. All that consoled me was, that I was bearing the same kind of suffering which Christ bore, and still bears, in view of the agonies and distresses of sin in this world.”

The “Key” was eminently successful in sustaining the truth of the story of Uncle Tom. It was an awful exposure to the world of American slavery, and one which Mrs. Stowe would gladly have avoided, but it was forced upon her in self-defense. That it and the book to which it is an accompaniment may fly swiftly upon their errand of mercy, to beg for the poor slave the sympathy and love of every humane heart, is our heartfelt desire.


ELIHU BURRITT is forty-three years old, and was born in the village of New Britain, Connecticut, a few miles south-west of the city of Hartford. His parents were very poor, and a common school education was all that they could give their children. The father was an ordinary man-honest, virtuous and respectable, though excessively poor. The mother, however, was remarkable for her many virtues. She was a woman of fine intellect, lofty courage, ardent piety, and brought up her children most admirably. Such mothers seem always to have uncommon children. Besides the subject of this sketch, she had another son, Elijah Burritt, whose name is not unknown to fame, and who perished on the prairies of the far south, a victim to an insatiable thirst for adventure and knowledge.

Elihu, like the majority of New England boys, laid the foundation for his after greatness, in a district school-house. While yet a boy, he had visions of future greatness. Though the roof beneath which he slept was humble, though his position was lowly, yet in his heart there were great and noble aspirations. We have heard him speak of some of his boyish dreams of future usefulness, and he would be dull, indeed, who could not gather from them the fact that at a very early age, he looked forward to a career by no means insignificant. At a certain age, he was filled with a martial spirit. Nor is this a singular fact, as it arose from an ardent admiration of heroism. He saw, as he grew older, that true heroism does not consist in cutting men's throats, but in braving the scorn, ridicule and hatred of wicked men, and doing great deeds of humanity. But at one time in his life, when he was young, he read much of warlike men, and the sound of the drum stirred his heart, as if he had been a soldier. We heard him once, by the fireside, tell how he, when a boy, rose one morning long before sunrise, to accompany, on foot, a few kindred spirits to a neighboring town, to witness a "regimental training." The long walk, through lonesome woods and valleys, was filled with martial tales and dreams of future heroic, martial deeds. The marching and counter-marching of the soldiers, the spirited music, the sham-fighting, all made a deep impression upon

him. For he saw not mere red-coated mensaw not sham conflicts, but his imagination transformed the real into the unreal, and he gazed upon a regiment of heroes, ready to spill their last drop of blood in the cause of freedom! In a little time, he learned that all is not what it seems, but an ardent

admiration for the truly heroic, characterizes him to-day.

At an early age, Mr. Burritt commenced to learn the trade of a blacksmith, in his native town. While learning his trade, he prosecuted his school studies with great industry. He soon, alone and unaided, took up a Latin grammar, and made himself familiar with that language. He then took up the Greek, then the Italian, and, in the course of a few years, , could read more or less readily in nearly fifty languages. The last year which Mr. Burritt spent in New Britain, before seeking his fortune abroad, he kept a refreshment-shop in the village. Being unsuccessful, he left it, and, as he was desirous of enjoying the privileges of an antiquarian library, he removed to Worcester, Massachusetts, where he worked industriously at his trade and books. His linguistical acquirements soon gave him notoriety. In the mean time, his fertile brain was filled with great plans for the future. He once went to Boston with a view to take ship to some distant countries, where he could, with better advantage, pursue his study of the languages. The world should rejoice that he, about this time, renounced his passion for linguistical knowledge, and devoted himself with intense earnestness to the advocacy of peace, temperance, and antislavery. He established a weekly journal in Worcester, called the “ Christian Citizen," in which he

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