advocating female interference or usurpation of authority, in directing the affairs of state. It is only the influence of woman on public sentiment, and this, to be truly salutary, must be exerted with a womanly delicacy and in an unobtrusive manner, that is recommended. Women certainly, have, in our country, a great influence over public opinion but-sub rosa-let us be cautious of making too much display about the matter. The establishment of "female emancipation societies," as has been suggested by the writer, would not, we think, be perfectly in accordance with woman's character. The slave question is not one of humanity merely. It is, and it will, for a long time to come, be considered as political in its bearings. Let us beware of exerting our power politically. We should do no good to the slave, and much evil might result to the free. The influence of woman, to be beneficial, must depend mainly on the respect inspired by her moral excellence, not on the political address or energy she may display. "It has been frequently asserted, that, to the heart of woman, the voice of humanity has never yet appealed in vain-that her ear is never deaf to the cry of suffering, nor her active sympathies ever unheeded when called upon, in behalf of the oppressed. If this be true, then surely we have no reason to fear, that she will listen with cold, careless inattention to our appeal for those who are among the outcasts of creation-our African slave population. It will be unnecessary to enter very deeply into a discussion respecting the merits or demerits of the case before us-for we presume that there are few, especially among our own sex, who will not readily acknowledge the injustice of the slave system. It is admitted by the planters themselves,—it must be felt by every thinking mind ;-nor is it an outrage merely against the laws of humanity, but it is destructive and ruinous, both in its moral and political effects, alike to the master and to the victim of his oppression. We might bid you look abroad over a large section of our country, and you would behold fields lying waste and uncultivated-here and there a lordly domain rising in proud eminence, surrounded by clusters of iniserable tenements, whose still more miserable inhabitants are toiling indolently and unwillingly to feed the luxury of their possessor-and we might bid you listen, for a moment, and you would hear the clank of chains, and the low deep groan of unutterable distress, mingling with the exulting hurras that tell of our country's liberty. We might tell you of more than this-we might tell you of females, aye, females-maidens and mothers, kneeling down before a cruel taskmaster, while the horse-whip was suspended over them, to plead for mercy-for mercy which was denied them but we do not wish to arouse you to a sudden burst of indignation, or we might tell you of far darker and more fearful tales than these. We wish to impress you with a firm, steady conviction of the manifest injustice and pernicious effects attendant on slavery, and with a deep sense of your own responsibility in either directly or indirectly lending it your encourageBut it may be, that some among you do not behold this subject in the light in which we wish to point it out to you. Many of you have been educated to believe this system natural and right-or if not right, at least a necessa ment. ry evil. You observe the dark countenances of the slaves lighted up with smiles; you hear the sounds of merriment proceeding from their cabins; and you therefore conclude that they cannot be otherwise than happy ;-as if the bitterest things of earth never wore a veil of brightness, or the mask of gaiety never served to conceal a bursting heart!-What! can the slave be happy?happy-" while the lash unfolds its torturing coil" above his head?—happy— while he is denied the blessings of liberty-while he is condemned to toil, day after day, week after week, and year after year, with a scanty sustenance for his only reward-while even the few fragments of bliss which he may have gathered up are dependant for their existence on the precarious will of a tyrant? Happy! no, never! He may mingle rejoicingly in scenes of merriment, and the loud laugh of unreflecting mirth may seem to burst exultingly from his lips; but it would be a profanation of the name of happiness to say, that her abode was ever in the bosom of the slave. We appeal to yourselves to know what it is that forms the deepest bliss of your life-and will you not, one and all of you, answer, that it is the exercise of the social affections?Then how can the slave be happy? How may he garner up his affections like holy things, when one word from his fellow man may lay the sanctuary of his heart all waste, and bare, and desolate? دو But you may perhaps argue-" We admit all the evils of which you so loudly complain; we acknowledge that the system of slavery is alike disgraceful and unjust; but it is to men, not to us, that you should appeal-to our statesmen, and to those who are the immediate supporters of the wrongs, the planters themselves. We can only lament over the blot on our country's fair scutcheon, but our tears will never efface it-our power is inadequate to the subtracting of one single item from the sum of African misery.' Believe us, you deceive yourselves. No power te meliorate the horrors of slavery! American women! your power is sufficient for its extinction! and, oh! by every sympathy most holy to the breast of woman, are ye called upon for the exertion of that potency! Are ye not sisters, and daughters, and wives, and mothers? And have ye no influence over those who are bound to you by the closest ties of relationship? Is it not your task to give the first bent to the minds of those, who at some future day are to be their country's counsellors, and her saviours, or, by a blind persistance in a career of injustice-her ruin !' PARTING OF FRIENDS. How oft the tenderest ties are broken- Like suns they rose, and all was bright: Like suns they set, and all is night. SKETCHES OF AMERICAN CHARACTER. THE THANKSGIVING OF THE HEART. "The heart gives life its beauty, "Tis sunlight to its rippling stream, OUR good ancestors were wise even in their mirth. We have a standing proof of this in the season they chose for the celebration of our annual festival, the Thanksgiving. The funeral faced month of November is thus made to wear a garland of joy, and instead of associating the days of fog, like our English relations, with sadness and suicide, we hail them as the era of gladness and good living. There is a deep moral influence in those periodical seasons of rejoicing in which a whole community participate. They bring out, and together, as it were, the best sympathies of our nature. The rich contemplate the enjoyments of the poor with complacency, and the poor regard the entertainments of the rich without envy, because all are privileged to be happy in their own way. Yet enjoyment does not always imply happiness. There is a disposition of mind which cannot by any single word in our language, be expressed. Philanthropy will best signify it; yet its influence is so different as displayed in different situations that it is called alternately contentment, charity, resignation, fortitude and love. These are all but modifications of the desire to diffuse happiness-a spirit that leads us to rejoice with the joyful, to cheer the unfortunate, and always to look on the sunny side of our path, gathering flowers where the repining (usually the selfish) would see only thorns and gravel. It takes but little to make one happy when the heart is right; but a repining disposition never yet enjoyed a Thanksgiving. There is always some accident or occurrence that mars the festival. The turkey is overroasted, or the sermon has been too long; or perchance the ball dress of a young lady has not been sent home, or the hairdresser has failed in finishing the beau; many are made wretched by trifles light as these. But the heart is not in such troubles. It is sheer selfishness that makes the grief and vexations of which two-thirds of the world complain. It is chagrin, not sorrow, people feel, and they endure it because they will not cultivate the disposition to be happy. I always consider good examples much more beneficial than wise precepts, and the example of Margaret Lowe was so full of instruction to her sex in that kind of excellence which was the object of the heathen philosophy, and is now of the christian religion, namely, the excellence of being happy, that it seems an appropriate story for the season when all should cultivate such a disposition. Margaret was one of those favored persons whose wealth of hope had seemed inexhaustible. Hume remarks that this temper is more to be coveted than an income of ten thousand a year; and certain it is that many possessed of that sum are not so happy as was Mrs. Lowe when deprived of all but hope. The father of Margaret was once a rich man, but in consequence of becoming surety for a friend he was stripped of all his property, and thrown into the jail where he died. What a reward to the benevolence that prompted him to assist his friend, and which did in fact give thousands to the very men that oppressed him. There is a defect in our free institutions, or the rights of the individual would not thus be trampled, and his feelings and those of common humanity outraged. Margaret then learned a lesson of resignation she never forgot. It was from her mother. When a mother's example and precepts exactly coincide what a powerful effect they have on her child! "Your father is dead, Margaret," she said, "and he died in prison-but not in disgrace. The misfortunes that befal us in our attempts to do good should never be regarded as troubles to repine at, or regret they are only sorrows, and then we should always study to be resigned. Had your father wronged his friend, or been guilty of a dishonorable action, we might with propriety have indulged in mourning and despair. But such gloomy feelings ought only to be cherished by the guilty; and we will thank God that your father was kept from the temptation to evil, that he died in nocent." The mother and daughter knelt down together, and the prayer they breathed was not all complaint. Margaret was handsome and portionless. "It is best for you, my dear, to be without a fortune," said her mother. "You will not now be addressed by any man who does not really believe you will make him a good wife. It will be in your power to fulfil such an expectation; whereas had you wealth, your husband might expect more happiness from that than he would ever have enjoyed. Riches are always overestimated; the enjoyment they give is more in the pursuit than the possession." It was by such instructions, always given in a kind tone, and with a cheerful countenance, that the mind of Margaret was developed; and when she gave her hand to Thomas Lowe, a fine young man in the employment of a company of merchants trading to South America and the East Indies, she was possessed of every requisite to be beloved as a bride, and better still, of the qualities which secure esteem for the wife. Mr. Lowe was not rich, but he was of a good family, and had enough to begin the world with all the eclat necessary to entitle him to a place in select society; and for a few years Margaret not only mingled in the first circles, but in accordance with her husband's taste, which it must be confessed, was rather too much addicted to show, she was a star in the galaxy of fashion. He was unwise in this, but then he was not selfish in his extravagance. He thought his wife would be happier to be thus distinguished; and she did enjoy it, but it was only because it appeared to gratify him; and when he was about taking his last voyage, which he expected would detain him eighteen months, she begged to retire to the village where she and her mother had resided, and pass the time of his absence in quiet. He accordingly took a pleasant cottage, and left her in the possession of every elegance money could command. But he did not calculate for contingencies; he did not expect his voyage would prove unfortunate. How few that are in health and rich in hope do arrange either their estates or their minds to meet calamity! Margaret's mind was, in some measure, prepared; and well for her that it was; for before the eighteen months had expired news came that the vessel in which her husband sailed had been wrecked and lost, and many of the crew had perished. Her husband, however, she learnt, had escaped; but nothing further concerning him. Another year passed, and |