cording to the inductive philosophy, that there is not one drop of
water in slavery for the parched lips of a dying slave. I stated this to
a member of our Junior Class who is a wonderful metaphysician. He was
kind enough to say that he could discover no flaw in the logic. Your
letter, which, I trust, is now on its way to me, I know will fully
confirm my theory and conclusion.
This lady had probably been reading some miserable cant about Southern
humanity, for there are people everywhere who take the wrong side of
every subject, from sheer obstinacy. What can disprove the laws of human
nature? They require that things should be at the South as our theories
lay them down.
In our Institution I mourn to say there is much opposition to the
principles of freedom. Not only so, but the students, many of them, mock
at us who stand up against oppression.
You may not be aware, dear Aunty, that I have a habit, in walking, of
keeping my hands firmly clenched, and my thumbs laid flat and pressed
down over the knuckles of my forefingers. This, I am aware, gives the
thumbs a flattened look. One of our principal pro-slavery students
delights to laugh at me to my face. Perhaps I am wrong in connecting
everything with this all-absorbing theme, but, truly, my thoughts all
run in that direction. Mother and you were accustomed to send me on
errands when I was little, and you placed your money in my right hand
and mother hers in my left, because, on my return to our house, your
room was on the right hand of the entry. So I used to go along, holding
your respective moneys in my palms, with my thumbs stopping the
apertures. And now I am persecuted for the fidelity which led me to
acquire a habit that cleaves to me to this day. But little did I dream,
dear Aunty, when I padded along like a straight footed animal in the
water, instead of having the free use of my open palms to aid me in
walking, that I was acquiring a habit to be to me an inlet of torture in
behalf of our manacled four millions, whose h
Notka biograficzna
Reverend Nehemiah Adams (born February 19, 1806; died October 6, 1878) was an American clergyman and writer. He was born in Salem, Massachusetts, in 1806 to Nehemiah Adams and Mehitabel Torrey Adams. He graduated from Harvard University in 1826, and from Andover Theological Seminary in 1829. He was ordained as co-pastor of First Congregational Church in Cambridge, Massachusetts, that same year. In 1832, he married Martha Hooper.
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Joanna Baillie (September 11, 1762February 23, 1851) was a Scottish poet and dramatist. Baillie was very well-known during her lifetime and, though a woman, intended her plays not for the closet but for the stage. Admired both for her literary powers and her sweetness of disposition, her cottage at Hampstead was the centre of a brilliant literary society. Baillie died at the age of 88, her faculties remaining unimpaired to the last.