We are accustomed to make a distinction between works of nature and works of art, but in a sense which, all will readily understand, this is preeminently both. As a work of art, it bears upon it, throughout, the stamp of original and varied genius. And yet, throughout, it equally bears the impress of nature--of human nature--in its worst and its best, and all its intermediate phases. The man who has read that little volume without laughing and crying alternately--without the meltings of pity, the thrillings of horror, and the kindlings of indignation--would supply a far better argument for a distinct race than a negro. [Loud laughter and cheers.] He must have a humanity peculiarly his own. And he who can read it without the breathings of devotion must, if he calls himself a Christian, have a Christianity as unique and questionable as his humanity. [Cheering.] Never did work produce such a sensation. Among us that sensation has happily been all of one kind. It has been the stirring of universal sympathy and unbounded admiration. Not so in the country of its own and of its gifted authoress's birth. There, the ferment has been among the friends as well as the foes of slavery. Among the former all is rage. Among the latter, while there are some--we trust not a few--who take the same high and noble position with the talented authoress, there are too many, we fear, who are frightened by this uncompromising boldness, and who are drawn back rather than drawn forward by it--who 'halt between two opinions,' and are the advocates of medium principles and medium measures. By many among ourselves, the excitement which has been stirred is contemplated with apprehension. They regard it as unfavorable to emancipation, and likely to retard rather than to advance its progress. I must confess myself of a somewhat different mind. That the cause may be obstructed by it for a time, may be true. But it will work well in the long run. Good will ultimately come out of it. Stir is better than stagnancy. Irritation is better than apathy. Whence does it arise? From two sources. The conscience and the honor of the country have both been touched. Conscience winces under the touch. The provocation shows it to be ill at ease. The wound is painful, and it naturally awakens fretfulness and resentment. But by and by the angry excitement will subside, and the salutary conviction will remain and operate. The national honor, too, has been touched. Our friends across the wave boast, and with good reason, of the free principles of their constitution. They glory in their liberty. But they cannot fail to feel the inconsistency of their position, and the exposure of it to the world kindles on the cheek the blush of shame and the reddening fire of displeasure. Now, the blush has aright source. It is the blush of patriotism--it is for their country. But there is anger with the shame; for few things are more galling than to feel that to be wrong which you