Form'd with the same capacity of pain, The same desire of pleasure and of ease, Why feels not man for man! When nature shrinks From the slight puncture of an insect's sting, Faints, if not screen'd from sultry suns, und pines Beneath the hardship of an hour's delay Of needful nutriment;--when liberty Is priz'd so dearly, that the slightest breath That ruffles but her mantle, can awake To arms unwarlike nations, and can rouse Confed'rate states to vindicate her claims:-- How shall the suff'rer man his fellow doom To ills he mourns and spurns at; tear with stripes His quiv'ring flesh; with hunger and with thirst Waste his emaciate frame; in ceaseless toils Exhaust his vital powers; and bind his limbs In galling chains? Shall he, whose fragile form Demands continual blessings to support Its complicated texture, air, and food, Raiment, alternate rest, and kindly skies, And healthful seasons, dare with impious voice To ask those mercies, whilst his selfish aim Arrests the general freedom of their course; And, gratified beyond his utmost wish, Debars another from the bounteous store? In this manner was the subject of this beautiful poem introduced to the notice of the public. But I have no room for any further extracts, nor time to make any further comment upon it. I can only add, that the committee were duly sensible as well of its merits, as of the virtuous and generous disposition of the author, and that they requested John Barton to thank him in an appropriate manner for his offer, which he was to say they accepted gratefully.