nations of modern Europe could never have gathered from among its ashes the philosophy, the arts, and the religion, which were imperishable, and have reconstructed with those materials that better civilization, which, amid the conflicts and fall of political and ecclesiastical systems, has been constantly advancing towards perfection in every succeeding age. If there had been no such common Humanity, then the dark and massive Egyptian obelisk would not have everywhere reappeared in the sepulchral architecture of our own times, and the light and graceful orders of Greece and Italy would not as now have been the models of our villas and our dwellings, nor would the simple and lofty arch and the delicate tracery of Gothic design have been as it now is, everywhere consecrated to the service of religion. If there had been no such common humanity, then would the sense of the obligation of the Decalogue have been confined to the despised nation who received it from Mount Sinai, and the prophecies of Jewish seers and the songs of Jewish bards would have perished forever with their temple, and never afterwards could they have become as they now are, the universal utterance of the spiritual emotions and hopes of mankind. If there had been no such common humanity, then certainly Europe and Africa, and even new America, would not, after the lapse of centuries, have recognized a common Redeemer, from all the sufferings and perils of human life, in a culprit who had been ignominiously executed in the obscure Roman province of Judea; nor would Europe have ever gone up in arms to Palestine, to wrest from the unbelieving Turk the tomb where that culprit had slept for only three days and nights after his descent from the cross,-much less would his traditionary instructions, preserved by fishermen and publicans, have become the chief agency in the renovation of human society, through after-coming ages. WM. H. SEWARD. A Mish. "COULD I embody and unbosom now, That which is most within me;—could I wreak I would speak it, not to crush the oppressor, but to melt the chains of slave and master, so that both should go free. Carsharan all. Kirtland. NEW YORK, November 8th, 1853. A Dialogue. SCENE.-A BREAKFAST TABLE. MRS. GOODMAN, a widow. FRANK GOODMAN, her son. MR. FREEMAN, a Southern gentleman, brother to Mrs. Goodman. MR. DRYMAN, a boarder. MR. R. FREEMAN. (Sipping his coffee and looking over the morning paper) reads— "The performance of Uncle Tom's Cabin attracts to the theatre very unusual audiences. In the "genteel row" last evening, we observed the strictest relig ionists of the day, not excepting puritanic Presbyterians, and the sober disciples of Wesley and Fox. For ourselves, we must candidly confess we have never witnessed such a play upon all the emotions of which humanity is susceptible. Mrs. Stowe, however unworthy the name of Patriot, is at least entitled to the credit of seizing the great thought of the age, and embodying it in such a form as to make it presentable to every order of mind and every class of society. She says, in effect, to Legislators, let me furnish your amusements, and I care not who makes your laws." Politicians would do well to look to this-(laying down the paper and speaking in a tone of impatience)so, so, Fanaticism is leading to its legitimate results. Uncle Tom in our parlors, Uncle Tom in our pulpits, and Uncle Tom in our plays. Mr. Dryman. Truly "he eateth with publicans and sinners." Mr. F. (Not noticing Mr. D.'s remark.) One would think this last appropriation of the vaunted hero would be sufficient to convince the most radical of the demoralizing influence of these publications. Frank. (Modestly.) How differently people judge. Why, last evening, when I saw crowds of the hardened and dissipated shedding tears of honest sympathy, when Uncle Tom and Eva sang, “I see a band of spirits bright, And conquering palms they bear”— I felt that the moral sentiment was asserting its supremacy even in places of amusement. |