some word in your ear, which would quicken: yr dormant sensibilities and arouse you to action in. the slave's cause! Shall I tell you of God, of heaven, and of hell? There is a God, and as he descends from his abode among the stars, and essays to find an entrance into your soul, by which he may make you "a joint heir with Christ to an inheritance, incorruptible: and undefiled and which fadeth not away," depend upon it, that he will be frustrated in his benevolent purpose, if the demon of pro-slavery, lies coiled up in your heart. Whatever may be said of religion, it is true that God can never approve of any person, in league with slaveholders; for a just God is forever opposed to all forms of robbery and oppression, If God's favor then is of any value, flee, I beseech thee, to the arms of liberty, and be encircled by her protecting power; so that all approach to Slavery may be dreaded by thee, as an angel dreads the polluting touch of sin.
EXTRACT of an Address of Sam'l J. May, Unitarian. Clergyman, in Syracuse, N. Y., delivered in Faneuil Hall.
Never will the story be forgotton in our country, or throughout the world, of the man — whom I trust you will all be permitted to see — who, that he might escape from Southern oppression, consented to a living entombment. He entered the box with the determination to be free or die: and as he heard the nails driven in, his fear was that death was to be his portion; yet, said he, let death come in preference to slavery! I happened to be in the City of Philadelphia — I have told the story to the convention already, but I will tell it again — in the midst of an excitement that was caused by the arrival of a man in a box. I measured it myself; three feet one inch long, two feet wide, and two feet six inches deep. In that box a man was entombed for twenty seven hours.
The box was placed in the express car in Richmond, Va., and subjected to all the rough treatment ordinarily given to boxes of merchandise; for, notwithstanding the admonition of this side up with care. the box was tumbled over, so that he was sometimes on his head; yes, at one time, for nearly two hours, as it seemed to him, on his head, and momentarily expecting that life would become extinct, from the terrible pressure of blood that poured upon his brain. Twenty-seven hours was this man subjected to this imminent peril, that he might, for one moment, at least, breathe the air of liberty. Does not such a man deserve to he free? Is there a heart here, that does not bid him welcome? Is there a heart here, that can doubt that there must be in him not merely the heart and sou! of a deteriorated man — a degraded, inferior man — but the heart and soul of a noble man? Not a nobleman. sir, but a noble man? Who can doubt it?
