Letter from Wm J. Watkins.

BOSTON, Dec. 27th, 1863.

FREDERICK DOUGLASS: Dear Sir:—"Welcome home," Is the cordial salutation leap
ing joyfully from the hearts of those kind
friends with whom I feel that I could talk
forever, and not grow weary. Home! What
hallowed associations cluster around this
endearing monosyllable! 'Tis the word in
our vocabulary which all the rest might envy.
One may be absent from his home, and seem
ingly bathe in pleasure, as the eagle in the
sunlight; visions of the bright and beauti
ful may linger 'round him, but still there is
a vacuum which can be filled by nought
but the actual appearance of the old arm
chair, the family picture, "the old oaken
bucket, the iron-bound bucket, the moss cov
ered bucket, that hangs in the well." But
I must not indulge in this strain longer.
And now that I have sounded the sweet
note of home, I find it difficult to strike
another. There's my journey from Roch
ester to Boston; I have said nothing yet about
that. Well, I had a very comfortable pas
sage, and a short one also.

During the night, I fell in conversation
with a gentleman upon various subjects—by-and-by, said he, "do you think, sir, that
the negroes are human, just the same as
we?" Yes, said I, just the same. "Well,"
he rejoined, "I don't know indeed; one
thing is certain, they'll never rise in this
country." Why not, I inquired? "O," said
he, "because of the prejudice existing
against them. A black skin is repulsive to
the white man, and ever will be." Is it re
pulsive to you, said I? Anything repulsive
in a black horse? "HORSES!" said he "we
were not talking about black horses, but black
men." O then, I replied, you discern the
difference between them? What has be
come of your doubts respecting their hu
manity? "O," staggered my white friend,
"I know they are men, but they are not ex
actly the same kind of men as we are." Said
I, the difference lies in the complexion only:
black horses are just the same as white.
"Why," said he, "do you compare men with
horses?" He seemed suddenly alarmed to
think that he was in company with a man so
"desperately wicked." I wonder what he
would have thought had he known he was
sitting in immediate proximity with "the
nigger?" I was sitting there enjoying the
joke most exquisitely, wondering what effect
the revelation of the coming day with its sun
light would produce upon him. But he ar
rived at his destination ere the morning
came. I hope to meet him ere long, by the
light of day, and then, if he'll condescend to
talk with me, we'll open the debate, and
strive not again to wound his feelings, by
comparing black horses with black men.

Well, here I am in Boston, puritanic
Sunday go-to-meeting Boston; the same
which sent poor Sims back into the hell of
slavery. I am in Boston then, and helped to
shout the soul-cheering hallelujah that rent
the skies when Shadrach leaped from the
bloody grasp of the ten-dollar commisioner
into the outstretched arms of his brethren,
who knocked off the manacles, and let the
sunlight in his heart.

All honor to those noble men! They will
never, no, never be forgotten.

I heard Theodore Parker last Sabbath—No man preaches more truth than this elo
quent man, this astute philosopher; he is
bold, fearless, daring, sometimes impetuous.
The "orthodox" clergy refuse to give him
the right hand of fellowship, but this does
not seem to disturb his equanimity. He pur
sues his onward course, resolved to have no
fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness. He is what is styled a radical refor
mer. Reform without what is called radi
calism, would be no reform at all. Though
denounced, and held up to the world as an
Infidel, he is a practical Christian. Those
professed Christians, who cry out unclean
against him, are practical atheists. They vir
tually deny the existence of a God; his laws
are trampled under their feet as an unholy
thing. Such men to be consistent should
discard the Bible, and take the Constitution
of the United States into their pulpits with
them, and when they pray, should address
themselves to the power that formed it.

Friend Douglass, I have performed one
good act at least, since my arrival in Boston
I have had the pleasure of depositing my
vote against that consummate menial, Jno
P. Bigelow, the Mayor of Boston, when her
court house was clothed in chains, and Fan
euil Hall desecrated, in obedience to the im
perious dictum of the slave power. He was
again the candidate for the Mayoralty.
C. V. Smith, one of the opposing candidates,
a man of liberal sentiments, lacked but five
votes of an election. Thus was a most
scathing rebuke administered to the slave
catching hireling who, with greedy haste, or
dered out the military of Boston, and then
marched them to the tune of Hail Columbia,
down State Street, in the noon of night with
their defenceless victim, to show forth "de
votion to the UNION." But no more fug
tives will be carried out of Boston. The
people have so declared in the recent elec
tion. Bigelow, Ex-Mayor of Boston, is too
deeply eugulphed in the depths of infamy,
to be resurrected by the hand of Hope. The
colored people of Boston seem to be looking
up. the lethargy which his hitherto char
acterized them, is gradually disappearing—They are accumulating property, opening
new stores, &c., &c., evincing to all around
them their capability to perform other than
menial positions in Society.

I visited the other day the Gymnasium
kept by Mr. John B. Baily, a colored gentle
man, a native of Baltimore, acknowledged
by all to be the most accomplished and scientific gymnast in this country. He has no
rival. When in Baltimore, his classes were
composed of the wealthiest and most aristo
cratic men in the community. Physicians
lawyers, clergymen, merchants, "gentlemen
of property and standing" gathered around
him, upon the eve of his departure from that
city, and offered him various inducements to
dissuade him from leaving. They lost sight
of his complexion, and saw only the charac
ter and ability of their teacher! And that
teacher a colored man!!

And here in Boston, I have seen him walk
ing arm in arm with one of the proudest ar
istocrats in the city. Is prejudice against
complexion vincible? Let the scholars of
Jno B. Baily, scattered all over the country,
answer the question. I must now bring my
letter to a close. I have shown the "AUTO
GRAPHS FOR FREEDOM" to a number of ind
viduals, all of whom award the highest [?]
of praise to the editress, the Ladies of the
Rochester Anti-Slavery Society, and last
though not least, the enterprising publishers.
You shall hear from me again ere long—Till then, adieu!

WM. J. WATKINS.