did. It is, doubtless, the duty of the Christian not to surrender

his life cheaply, for the sake of being a martyr. This would be an unholy motive. It is his duty to preserve it until the last moment. So Christ enjoins. It is no mark of cowardice to flee. ‘When they persecute you in one city, flee into another,’ said the Saviour. But he did not say, Give a _pledge_ that you will not exercise your _rights_. Hence, he nor his disciples never did it. But it _is a question_, after one has deliberated, and conscientiously entered a community in the exercise of his constitutional and religious rights, whether he should give a _pledge_, under the influence of a _love of life, never to return_. If he does, he has not counted the cost. A Christian should be as conscientious in pledging solemnly not to do what he has an undoubted _right_ to do, as he is in laboring for the emancipation of the slave.”

The following is from the _National Era_, July 10, 1851.

Mr. McBride wished to form a church of non-slaveholders.

CASE OF REV. JESSE M’BRIDE.

This missionary, it will be remembered, was expelled lately from the State of North Carolina.

We give below his letter detailing the conduct of the mob. His letter is dated Guilford, May 6. After writing that he is suffering from temporary illness, he proceeds:

“I would have kept within doors this day, but for the fact that I mistrusted a mob would be out to disturb my congregation, though such a hint had not been given me by a human being. About six o’clock this morning I crawled into my carriage and drove eighteen miles, which brought me to my meeting place, eight miles east of Greensboro’,—the place I gave an account of a few weeks since,—where some seven or eight persons gave their names to go into the organization of a Wesleyan Methodist church. Well, sure enough, just before meeting time (twelve o’clock) I was informed that a pack of rioters were on hand, and that they had sworn I should not fulfil my appointment this day. As they had heard nothing of this before, the news came upon some of my friends like a clap of thunder from a clear sky; they scarcely knew what to do. I told them I should go to meeting or die in the attempt, and, like ‘good soldiers,’ they followed. Just before I got to the arbor, I saw a man leave the crowd and approach me at the left of my path. As I was about to pass, he said:

“‘Mr. McBride, here’s a letter for you.’

“I took the letter, put it into my pocket, and said, ‘I have not time to read it until after meeting.’

“‘No, you must read it _now_.’

“Seeing that I did not stop, he said, ‘I want to speak to you,’ beckoning with his hand, and turning, expecting me to follow.

“‘I will talk to you after meeting,’ said I, pulling out my watch; ‘you see I have no time to spare—it is just twelve.’

“As I went to go in at the door of the stand, a man who had taken his seat on the step rose up, placed his hand on me, and said, in a very excited tone,

“‘Mr. McBride, you can’t go in here!’

“Without offering any resistance, or saying a word, I knelt down outside the stand, on the ground, and prayed to my ‘Father;’ plead His promises, such as, ‘When the enemy comes in like a flood, I _will_ rear up a standard against him’; ‘I am a present help in trouble;’ ‘I will fight all your battles for you;’ prayed for grace, victory, my enemies, &c. Rose perfectly calm. Meantime my enemies cursed and swore some, but most of the time they were rather quiet. Mr. Hiatt, a slave-holder and merchant from Greensboro’, said,

“‘You can’t preach here to-day; we have come to prevent you. We think you are doing harm—violating our laws,’ &c.

“‘From what authority do you thus command and prevent me from preaching? Are you authorized by the civil authority to prevent me?’

“‘No, sir.’

“‘Has God sent you, and does he enjoin it on you as a duty to stop me?’

“‘I am unacquainted with _Him_.’

“‘Well, acquaint now thyself with Him, and be at peace,’ and he will give you a more honorable business than stopping men from preaching his gospel. The judgment-day is coming on, and I summon you there, to give an account of this day’s conduct. And now, gentlemen, if I have violated the laws of North Carolina, by them I am willing to be judged, condemned, and punished; to go to the whipping-post, pillory or jail, or even to hug the stake. But, gentlemen, you are not _generally_ a pack of ignoramuses; your good sense teaches you the impropriety of your course; you _know_ that you are doing wrong; you know that it is not right to trample all law, both human and divine, in the dust, out of professed love for it. You must see that your course will lead to perfect anarchy and confusion. The time may come when Jacob Hiatt may be in the minority, when _his_ principles may be as unpopular as Jesse McBride’s are _now_. What then? Why, if _your_ course prevails, he must be lynched—whipped, stoned, tarred and feathered, dragged from his own house, or his house burned over his head, and he perish in the ruins. The persons became food for the beasts they threw Daniel to; the same fire that was kindled for the ‘Hebrew children’ consumed those who kindled it; Haman stretched the same rope he prepared for Mordecai. Yours is a dangerous course, and you must reap a retribution, either here or hereafter. We will sing a hymn,’ said I.

“‘O yes,’ said H., ‘you may sing.’

“‘The congregation will please assist me, as I am quite unwell;’ and I lined off the hymn, ‘Father, I stretch my hands to thee,’ &c., rioters and all helping to sing. All seemed in good humor, and I almost forgot their errand. When we closed, I said, ‘Let us pray.’

“‘G—d d——n it, that’s not singing!’ said one of the company, who stood back pretty well.

“While we invoked the divine blessing, I think many could say, ‘It is good for us to be here.’ Before I rose from my knees, after the friends rose, I delivered an exhortation of some ten or fifteen minutes, in which I urged the brethren to steadfastness, prayer, &c., some of the mob crying, ‘Lay hold of him!’ ‘Drag him out!’ ‘Stop him!’ &c.

“My voice being nearly drowned by the tumult, I left off. I was then called to have some conversation with H., who repeated some of the charges he preferred at first,—said I was bringing on insurrection, causing disturbance, &c.; wishing me to leave the state; said he had some slaves, and he himself was the most of a slave of any of them, had harder times than they had, and he would like to be shut of them, and that he was my true friend.

“‘As to your friendship, Mr. H., you have acted quite friendly, remarkably so—fully as much so as Judas when he kissed the Saviour. As to your having to be so much of a slave, I am sorry for you; you _ought to be freed_. As to insurrection, I am decidedly opposed to it, have no sympathy with it whatever. As to raising disturbance and leaving the state, I left a little motherless daughter in Ohio, over whom I wished to have an oversight and care. When I left, I only expected to remain in North Carolina one year; but the people dragged me up before the court under the charge of felony, put me in bonds, and kept me; and now would you have me leave my securities to suffer, have me lie and deceive the court?’

“‘O! if you will leave, your bail will not have to suffer; that can, I think, be settled without much trouble,’ said Mr H.

“‘They _shall not_ have trouble on my account,’ said I.

“After talking with Mr. H. and one or two more on personal piety, &c., I went to the arbor, took my seat in the door of the stand for a minute; then rose, and, after referring to a few texts of Scripture, to show that all those who will live godly shall suffer persecution, I inquired, 1st, What is persecution? 2ndly, noticed the fact, ‘shall suffer;’ gave a synoptical history of persecution, by showing that Abel was the first martyr for the right—the Israelites’ sufferings. The prophets were stoned, were sawn asunder, were tempted, were slain with the sword, had to wander in deserts, mountains, dens and caves of the earth, were driven from their houses, given to ferocious beasts, lashed to the stake, and destroyed in different ways. Spoke of John the Baptist; showed how he was persecuted, and what the charge. Christ was persecuted for doing what John was persecuted for not doing. Spoke of the sufferings of the apostles, and their final death; of Luther and his coadjutors; of the Wesleys and early Methodists; of Fox and the early Quakers; of the early settlers in the colonies of the United States. Noticed why the righteous were persecuted, the advantages thereof to the righteous themselves, and how they should treat their persecutors—with kindness, &c. Spoke, I suppose, some half an hour, and dismissed. Towards the close, some of the rioters got quite angry, and yelled, ‘Stop him!’ ‘Pull him out!’ ‘The righteous were never persecuted for d——d abolitionism,’ &c. Some of them paid good attention to what I said. And thus we spent the time from twelve to three o’clock, and thus the meeting passed by.

“Brother dear, I am more and more confirmed in the righteousness of our cause. I would rather, much rather, die for good principles, than to have applause and honor for propagating false theories and abominations. You perhaps would like to know how I feel. Happy, most of the time; a religion that will not stand persecution will not take us to heaven. Blessed be God, that I have not, thus far, been suffered to deny Him. Sometimes I have thought that I was nearly home. I generally feel a calmness of soul, but sometimes my enjoyments are rapturous. I have had a great burden of prayer for the dear flock; help me pray for them. Thank God, I have not heard of one of them giving up or turning; and I believe some, if not most of them, would go to the stake rather than give back. I forgot to say I read a part of the fifth chapter of the Acts of the Apostles to the rioters, commencing at the 17th verse. I told them, if their institutions were of God, I could not harm them; that if our cause was of God, _they could not stop it_—that they could kill me, but they could _not kill_ the truth. Though I talked plainly, I talked and felt kindly to them.

“I have had to write in such haste, and being fatigued and unwell, my letter is disconnected. I meant to give you a copy of the letter of the mob. Here it is:

“‘Mr. MCBRIDE:

“‘We, the subscribers, very and most respectfully request you not to attempt to fulfil your appointment at this place. If you do, you will surely be interrupted.

[Signed by 32 persons.]

“‘_May 6, 1851._’

“Some were professors of religion—Presbyterians, Episcopal Methodists, and Methodist Protestants. One of the latter was an ‘exhorter.’ I understand some of the crowd were negro-traders

“Farewell, J. MCBRIDE.”

Footnote 23:

The writer is describing here a scene of recent occurrence in a slave state, of whose particulars she has the best means of knowledge. The work in question was “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.”