I cannot as yet admit the justness of the
general proposition, that it is an actual sin to eat, drink, or wear
any thing which has been the result of slave labor, because it seems
to me to be based upon a principle altogether too wide in extent. To
be consistent in it, we must extend it to the results of all labor
which is not conducted on just and equitable principles; and in order
to do this consistently we must needs, as St. Paul says, go out of the
world. But if two systems, one founded on wrong and robbery, and the
other on right and justice, are competing with each other, should we
not patronize the right?
I am the more inclined to think that some course of this kind is
indicated to the Christian world, from the reproaches and taunts which
proslavery papers are casting upon us, for patronizing their cotton.
At all events, the Quakers escape the awkwardness of this dilemma.
In the evening quite a large circle of friends came to meet us. We
were particularly interested in the conversation of Mr. and Mrs.
Wesby, missionaries from Antigua. Antigua is the only one of the
islands in which emancipation was immediate, without any previous
apprenticeship system; and it is the one in which the results of
emancipation have been altogether the most happy. They gave us a very
interesting account of their schools, and showed us some beautiful
specimens of plain needlework, which had been wrought by young girls
in them. They confirmed all the accounts which I have heard from other
sources of the peaceableness, docility, and good character of the
negroes; of their kindly disposition and willingness to receive
instruction.
After tea Mr. S. and I walked out a little while, first to a large
cemetery, where repose the ashes of Dr. Watts. This burying ground
occupies the site of the dwelling and grounds formerly covered by the
residence of Sir T. Abney, with whom Dr. Watts spent many of the last
years of his life. It has always seemed to me that Dr. Watts's rank as
a poet has never been properly appreciated. If ever there was a poet
born, he was that man; he attained without study a smoothness of
versification, which, with Pope, was the result of the intensest
analysis and most artistic care. Nor do the most majestic and
resounding lines of Dryden equal some of his in majesty of volume. The
most harmonious lines of Dryden, that I know of, are these: -
"When Jubal struck the chorded shell,
His listening brethren stood around,
And wondering, on their faces fell,
To worship that celestial sound.
Less than a God they thought there could not dwell
Within the hollow of that shell,
That spoke so sweetly and so well."
The first four lines of this always seem to me magnificently
harmonious.
