Gentlemen, I am a minister of Religion. It is my function to teach what is absolutely true and absolutely right. I am the servant of no sect,--how old soever, venerable and widely spread. I claim the same religious Rights with Luther and Calvin, with Budha and Mohammed; yes, with Moses and Jesus,--the unalienable Right to serve the God of Nature in my own way. I preach the Religion which belongs to Human Nature, as I understand it, which the Infinite God imperishably writes thereon,--Natural Piety, love of the infinitely perfect God, Natural Morality, the keeping of every law He has written on the body and in the soul of man, especially by loving and serving his creatures. Many wrong things I doubtless do, for which I must ask the forgiveness of mankind. But do you suppose I can keep the fugitive slave bill, obey these Judges, and kidnap my own Parishioners? It is no part of my "Christianity" to "send the mother that bore me into eternal bondage." Do you think I can suffer Commissioner Curtis and Commissioner Loring to steal my friends,--out of my meeting-house? Gentlemen, when God bids me do right and this Court bids me do wrong, I shall not pretend to "obey both." I am willing enough to suffer all that you will ever lay on me. But I will not do such a wrong, nor allow such wickedness to be done--so help me God! How could I teach Truth, Justice, Piety, if I stole men; if I allowed Saunders, Jeffreys, Scroggs, or Sharkey, Grier, Kane, or in one word, Curtis, to steal them? I love my Country, my kindred of Humanity; I love my God, Father and Mother of the white man and the black; and am I to suffer the Liberty of America to be trod under the hoof of Slaveholders, Slave-drivers; yes, of the judicial slaves of slaveholders' slave-drivers? I was neither born nor bred for that. I drew my first breath in a little town not far off, a poor little town where the farmers and mechanics first unsheathed that Revolutionary sword which, after eight years of hewing, clove asunder the Gordian knot that bound America to the British yoke. One raw morning in spring--it will be eighty years the 19th of this month--Hancock and Adams, the Moses and Aaron of that Great Deliverance, were both at Lexington; they also had "obstructed an officer" with brave words. British soldiers, a thousand strong, came to seize them and carry them over sea for trial, and so nip the bud of Freedom auspiciously opening in that early spring. The town militia came together before daylight "for training." A great, tall man, with a large head and a high, wide brow, their Captain,--one who "had seen service,"--marshalled them into line, numbering but seventy, and bad "every man load his piece with powder and ball." "I will order the first man shot that runs away," said he, when some faltered; "Don't fire unless fired upon, but if they want to have a war,--let it begin here." Gentlemen, you know what followed: those farmers and mechanics