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Nigger! Nigger! Nigger!

— Congress has the negro-phobia. It is nigger in the Senate, and nigger in the House. It is nigger in the forenoon and nigger in the afternoon. It is nigger in the resolutions and nigger in the bills. It is nigger in motions and nigger in speeches. It was nigger the first day, and it has been nigger every day. Nigger is in every man's eye, and nigger is in every man's mouth. It is nigger in the lobby, and nigger in the hall. It is nigger under the seat, and nigger on top of the seat. Congress smells of nigger, and the proceedings are black with nigger. A black fog with nigger exhalations rises from the unfinished dome of the capitol; it spreads its poisonous vapors over the white house and the departments; it reaches northward, and blinds the eyes of would be great men, and stands in lieu of printing ink for the small emancipation journals of the country. The cloud of ashes that buried Herculaneum from the world was as nothing, if compared to the offensive exudations which abolitionism is steaming from the "lacerated skin of the down-trodden nigger." The ashes were only a physical evil; but the nigger vapor is a moral pestilence, that blunts the sense of duty to the Constitution and destroys the instinct of obedience to the laws. The nigger-phobia, we should think, has nearly reached the worst of its paroxysms. Certain it is that the country is torn by faction, devastated by war, and got the wool over its eyes generally. And yet the cry goes forth, even from the fountain of national legislation, which ought to run pure as the stream which "flowed fast by the oracles of God," nigger, nigger, — give me nigger, or give me a lock of his wool! What an "institution" nigger is! — [Macomb Eagle.

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