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of men in the State, to stamp upon this infamous procedure the indelible stigma of the public abhorrence. More particularly I call upon the holy prelates of our religion to do away this iniquity: let them perform a lustration to purify the country from this deep and deadly sin. My lords, I am old and weak, and at present unable to say more; but my feelings and indignatior were too strong to have said less. I could not have slept this night in my bed, nor even reposed my head upon my pillow, without giving vent to my eternal abhorrence of such enormous and preposterous principles.
THE PHILANTHROPICAL SOCIETY.
BY THOMAS HOOD.
1. ONCE on a time-no matter when
Professing, on a certain plan,
To benefit the race of man,
The sable is to ermine;
As crows, to swans; as soot, to driven snow;
Or yet, a better simile to show,
They had a sort of managing committee,
A board of grave, responsible directors,
And quite an army of collectors,
Young, old, and middle-aged--of all degrees,
many of those persevering ones
To rescue Afric's sable sons from fetters?
To save their bodies from the burning shame
Of branding with hot letters ?
Their necks from iron yokes? 3. To end or mitigate the ills of slavery,
The planter's avarice, the driver's knavery?
To wash and whiten 'em !
Merely removing transient pollution,-
With stiff, strong, saponaceous lather,
And pails of water,--hottish rather, But not so boiling as to turn 'em red! 5. Sweet was the vision; but, alas !
However in prospectus bright and sunny,
One thing was requisite, and that was-money!
The negroes must remain as dark as pitch. 6. Money,—the root of evil,—dross and stuff!
But, oh! how happy ought the rich to feel,
To blanch an African from head to heel!
Enough to scour a tribe!
how sweet to know
Or little one!
Το persons of a certain turn so proper,
In silver, gold, and copper;
Presents from "friends to blacks," or foes to whiter “Trifles," and "offerings," and " widows' mites," Plump legacies and yearly benefactions,
With other gifts
And charitable lifts,
As thus : Elisha Brettle,
And great results in consequence expected.
According to reports
At yearly courts, The blacks--confound them! - were as black as ever Yes! spite of all the water soused aloft, Soap, plain and mottled, hard and soft, Soda anu pearlash, huckaback and sand, Brooms, brushes, palm of hand, And scourers in the office strong and clever, In spite of a! the tubbing, rubbing, scrubbing,
The routing and the grubbing, The blacks-confound them !-were as black as ever! 9 In fact, in his perennial speech, The chairman own’d the negroes did not bleach,
As he had hoped,
From being wash'd and soap'd,
But still he had the happiness to say,
Although he could not promise perfect white,
From certain symptoms that had come to light,
He hoped in time to get them gray!
Continued to subscribe,
11. But, spite of pounds or guineas,
Instead of giving any hint
Of turning to a neutral tint,
Only some very aged souls
By such repeated failures, or abash'd,
The secretary, good at pen and ink,
And all the cash-collectors;
Without whose help no charlatan alive
Or Bubble Company could hope to thrive,
Who, willingly receiving chaff for corn,
Of being pluck'd and shorn.
Thronging the hot, and close, and dusky court,
And regular report.
That, what with everlasting wear and tear,
The scrubbing-brushes hadn't got a hair;
The towels worn to threads,
And,-what was added with a deal of pain,
But as accounts correctly would explain,-
The blackamoors had still been wash'd in vain. 14. “In fact, the negroes were as black as ink;
Yet still, as the committee dared to think,
Up jump'd a little lemon-color'd man,
And, with an eager stammer, thus began In angry earnest, though it sounded funny :“What! more subscriptions ! No-no-10~not I! You have had time-time-time enough to try! They won't come white ! then why-why-why-whywhy,
More money ?"
And gentle waver of his dexter hand;
More filthy lucre,-in a word, more gold ?
The why, sir, very easily is told;
And, finding that we cannot wash them white,
We mean to gild 'em.”
GIL BLAS AND THE ARCHBISHOP
Archbishop. WELL, young man, what is your business with me?
Gil Blas. I am the young man whom your nephew Don Fernando was pleased to mention to you.