cunning of Jones; and it is not to be wished
that they should. Or, if cunning be, as it is,
the vice of slaves (of all complexions and in
all latitudes), it is less able in the ignorant
slave than in the man who has tilled his own
ground, and managed his own trade for thirty
years.

ANTHONY BURNS,—the sufferer who has
unconsciously brought old Massachusetts to
its present pass,—has ruined himself by a
step which has no cunning in it at all.
He had run away from Virginia last winter,
it is believed. It is proved that he was
earning his living in Boston, on the first of
last March. Wishing to let his family know
of his safety, he wrote, or got written (for
many slaves cannot read or write) an account
of himself and his whereabout, and got the
letter sent round by Canada. In his
simplicity he supposed that was security
enough; but all communications addressed
to slaves are intercepted, and his master
learned where he was. The master's name,
be it known and remembered, is Suttle,
—Charles F. Suttle; and his comrade in his
heroic enterprise, is called William Brent.
Charles Suttle and William Brent set out
immediately, and clapped Anthony Burns on
the shoulder when he was cleaning clothes
for his employer in Brattle Street, Boston, on
the morning of Friday, the twenty-sixth of
May last. Knowing that by the law of the
state they could not, without inconvenient
controversy, claim him as a slave, they
charged him with pretended felony—an
accusation which was dropped as soon as an
offer was made to purchase his freedom.

He was taken to the court-house, where he
remained all day, knowing nothing of what
was doing outside. It was a busy day in
Boston,—some of the citizens providing for
the federal law being observed, and others
for the older Massachusetts constitution not
being infringed. Messrs. Suttle and Brent
were arrested for attempted abduction; but,
foreseeing this move, they were provided with
bail, and were at once released. The largest
building but one, we believe, in Boston (the
exception being the Melodeon, where Theodore
Parker, a man of great reputation, preaches)
is Faneuil Hall, wherein the revolutionary
meeting and councils were held, and which is
therefore called the Cradle of Liberty. In
that place, a meeting was held that night,
and such speaking was heard as is hardly
heard twice in a century by any nation.
It was as if the trumpet of their memorable
war hung by the gate, and some bold hand
had raised it, and made it sound among all the
lulls of the old granite state. But the citizens
were not prepared with any practical measure.
Some were for fighting at once. Others were
for a different kind of struggle: some for one
thing—some for another, and none for
submission to an infringement—and such an
infringement as was threatened—of their state laws.
In the midst, the cry arose that the coloured
people were breaking into the court house,
and off went the meeting to see. It was so;
the black citizens were battering away at the
court house door with a beam, which they
used as a battering-ram. Several whites
rushed to get hold of the beam, and wrought
well with the negroes, till the door gave way.
A pistol shot had been heard from within
the hall: it was followed by more in the
streets; and a shower of brickbats brought
down the court house windows in shivers.
Amid the rattle of glass, the roar of the
crowd, and the popping of pistols, the heavy
bang of the beam was heard till the door
crashed down, and yet louder was the steady
cry, repeated every minute by a group of
leaders, "Rescue him!" Above all, just at
half-past nine of that May night, was heard
the clang of the alarm bell.

The first who entered the Court House were
received with shots, and a waving of clubs from
a posse of city officers, who were mustered on
the stairs. Rushing back for the moment, the
leaders were intercepted by a body of police
who gained the steps, and successfully held the
place. A special constable named Batchelder,
was killed in the entry by a pistol-shot. For
want of a plan, and some sort of organisation,
and because many of Burns's best friends
were averse to violence when they believed
law to be on their side, nothing more was
done that night. The police made some
arrests; and, by midnight, the military were
posted in the square. The affrighted slave-
owner now offered to sell his slave—aided in
his resolution, probably, by finding that there
was a serious mistake in his affidavit. He had
sworn that Burns ran away on the twenty-fourth
of March, whereas there was abundant
evidence of his being at work at Boston on
the first of March. The money was instantly
raised: but when it was brought to Suttle, he
had changed his mind, and refused to sell his
man for any price. There is no doubt that
this was in consequence of directions from
Washington; for the President sent letters
under his own hand, desiring that no expense
should be spared in carrying out the law of
the United States. Thus the revolutionary
character of the transaction was avowed by
the President of the Republic himself.

On the Saturday the court-house was found
to be guarded, within and without, by the
whole military force of the district—even the
soldiers from the fort, the cadets, and the
marines from the Navy-yard, had been
summoned in the night. The poor slave was
handcuffed and strongly guarded. His
countenance was wistful and sad in the
extreme. He no doubt knew that the last
fugitive who had been carried back had been
flogged every day with the greatest number
of lashes that human patience could endure
without death, for an example to runaways.
Alas! it may too probably be so with
himself, even now.

His counsel obtained a delay until Monday