Swoop down upon the workingman, A precept sure the Master gave — This do, and all these ills will flee. 'Tis this alone, can make us FREE! An early friend, who was a magistrate, and a most agreeable and entertaining man, once told a good story of a remarkable legal decision made by another judicial dignitary, which I took a fancy, one day, to reduce to rhythm, as follows, under the title of BLIND JUSTICE. The scales of Justice are, in most, Still less might happen to be weighed But that such puzzlers may arise, An old Dutch justice tried, one day, In point of precedent, they say, The evidence was the winning kind, As one his client's cause espoused, The old judge listened, till there shone Then firmly said, in under tone, "De blaintiff win de case!" But soon in ringing tones, was made, A plea which judgment quickly stayed, For as the counsel mounted up, The judge said, (and the table struck,) "De 'fendant win dis time!" But when a joint appeal was brought, "De blaintiff an' defendant, dey The following article was offered to one of the chief literary journals of Boston, but the editor said that as his paper had a large sale among people who might not feel as I did, on the subject treated, he thought best not to publish it. I replied: "Call my production crude, inferior, anything you please; but do not leave me to infer that the leading literary journal of Old Boston, the birthplace of American Liberty, the home of the grand old champions of Human Freedom, would consider it impolitic to publish a pen-picture, if well drawn, of that great transformation scene, wherein the shackles of four million bondmen fall, at touch of the sainted Lincoln." A REVERIE. I hold a picture in my hand,- Though furrowed deep with care; Strong is the love for all mankind Yet sense, as well, of duty stern, True tenderness of heart. Beside the tall, commanding form, |