It is sad to know of suffering anywhere, even by a single lowly person. But our feelings are enhanced, when individual sorrows are multiplied, and the blow descends upon a whole race. History, too, takes up the grief. The Jews expelled from Spain by merciless decree, the Huguenots driven from France by the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, our own Puritan fathers compelled to exile for religious Freedom,--all these receive a gushing sympathy, and we detest the tyrants. These were persecutions for religion, in days of religious bigotry and darkness. But an American Congress, in this age of Christian light, not in the fanaticism of religion, but in the fanaticism of Slavery, did a deed that finds companionship only with these enormities of the past. The Fugitive Slave Act carried distress and terror to every person with African blood in the Free States. All were fluttered, as the arbitrary edict commenced its swoop over the land. The very rumor that a slave-hunter was in town so shook the nerves of a sensitive freeman on whom was the ban of color, that he died. To large numbers the Act was a decree of instant expulsion from the Republic, under penalty of Slavery to them and their posterity forever. Driven by despair, as many as six thousand Christian men and women, meritorious persons,--a larger band than that of the escaping Puritans,--precipitately fled from homes they had established, opportunities of usefulness they had found, and the regard of fellow-citizens, until, at last, in an unwelcome Northern climate, beneath the British flag, with glad voices of Freedom on their lips, though with the yearnings of exile in their hearts, they were happy in swelling the chant, “God save the Queen!”