I have long beheld with regret and astonishment, the efforts that have been made by a certain class of writers, to disseminate erroneous views in the Northern section of the United States, with regard to Southern slavery.[2] The recent publication by Mrs. Stowe, entitled "Uncle Tom's Cabin," is a work of that class. I have no wish to write anything harsh or unkind; for however ill-timed, ill-advised, or ill-judged the work may be, if her object was the alleviation of human woe, I can but respect the motive that prompted her to write, though I may differ with her in opinion as to the means most likely to accomplish the proposed object. The fair authoress may have meant well. I shall leave that, however, to the "Searcher of all hearts;" but I frankly confess that I fear that the book will result "in evil, and only evil." I cannot avoid here, quoting the language that she puts in the mouth of Chloe, the wife of Uncle Tom, who is the hero of her tale: "Wal any way, that's wrong about it somewhar, I can't jest make out whar it is, but thar's wrong somewhar." We all admit that there are wrongs, it is clear to every one, neither do we differ much as to what those wrongs are, nor yet as to their causes and effects; but unfortunately for us, we differ widely, when we undertake to propose remedies for the evil complained of. We have all need of that charity "which suffereth long and is kind; that thinketh no evil." It is as unreasonable and as wicked, to treat each other unkindly, because we differ in opinion, as it would be to treat each, other unkindly, because there is a difference in the features of our faces, and the expression of our countenances. The Author of our existence, for wise purposes, made us to differ mentally, as well as physically. The structures of our minds are different. The great Architect _willed_ that it should be thus; why, we presume not to know, but so it is. And then moreover, our physical training, mental, moral and religious culture; together with climate and a variety of other external and internal causes, have all contributed more or less in shaping our opinions, and giving a peculiar cast to our minds. Thus it is, that we are all looking through different glasses, and it is no wonder that we do not all see objects just alike. Objects must necessarily present themselves to us, in different hues and colors. Some are so accustomed to view all objects through a microscope, that they have no just conception of the real magnitude of any body. Exaggeration is their _forte_--in this they excel. Their towering minds soar above common comprehension and common sense, and their fertile imaginations are ever ready to conjure up spectres, ghosts and hobgoblins; or otherwise, where others see a mouse, they behold an elephant; and to their distorted visions, a mole-hill is magnified into a mountain. We look in vain to such writers for a plain, unvarnished, common sense statement of facts, for sound arguments, or logical deductions.