Every such representation is a libel, as I shall show in subsequent pages. The language of the people of color is,--'This is our country: here were we born--here will we live and die--we know of no other place that we can call our true and appropriate home--here are our earliest and most pleasant associations--we are freemen, we are brethren, we are countrymen and fellow-citizens--we are not for insurrection, but for peace and equality.' This is not the language of sedition or alienated affection. Their _amor patriae_ is robust and deathless: like the oak, tempests do but strengthen its roots and confer victory upon it. Even the soil on which the unhappy slave toils and bleeds, is to him consecrated earth. African colonization is directly and irreconcileably opposed to the wishes of our colored population as a body. Their desires ought to be tenderly regarded. In all my intercourse with them in various towns and cities, I have never seen one of their number who was friendly to this scheme--and I have not been backward in canvassing their opinions on this subject. They are as unanimously opposed to a removal to Africa, as the Cherokees from the council-fires and graves of their fathers. It is remarkable, too, that they are as united in their respect and esteem for the republic of Hayti. But _this is their country_--they are resolute against every migratory plot, and willing to rely on the justice of the nation for an ultimate restoration to all their lost rights and privileges. What is the fact? Through the instrumentality of BENJAMIN LUNDY,[AF] the distinguished and veteran champion of emancipation, a great highway has been opened to the Haytien republic, over which our colored population may travel _toll free_, and at the end of their brief journey be the free occupants of the soil, and meet such a reception as was never yet given to any sojourners in any country, since the departure of Israel into Egypt. One would think, that, with such inducements and under such circumstances, this broad thoroughfare would present a most animating spectacle; that the bustle and roar of a journeying multitude would fall upon the ear like the strife of the ocean, or the distant thunder of the retiring storm; and that the song of the oppressor and the oppressed, a song of deliverance to each, would go up to heaven, till its echoes were seemingly the responses of angels and justified spirits. But it is not so. Only here and there a traveller is seen to enter upon the road--there is no noise of preparation or departure; but a silence, deeper than the breathlessness of midnight, rests upon our land--not a shout of joy is heard throughout our borders! How shall we account for this amazing apathy but on the ground that our colored population are unwilling to leave their native homes, no matter how strong soever are the inducements held out to them abroad?