Front Cover
 Half Title
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 A ride and a race
 Down in the dust
 Is there danger?
 Let him in
 The Negro and his master
 Difficulty and danger
 The meeting
 A desperate struggle
 Can he survive?
 A bold dash
 A passing meteor
 Who'll bell the cat?
 Gilding rubs off
 Cemented, not riveted
 Evil tidings
 The heiress's welcome
 A festival
 A storm
 Bitter but blessed
 A lazy Negro
 The holly tree
 The slave
 She keeps her word
 Sudden changes
 A lowly lot
 A surprise
 A bonfire
 Back Cover

Group Title: The A.L.O.E. series
Title: The forlorn hope
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00086668/00001
 Material Information
Title: The forlorn hope
Series Title: The A.L.O.E. series
Alternate Title: Forlorn hope a tale
Physical Description: 265, 4 p., 2 leaves of plates : ill. ; 19 cm.
Language: English
Creator: A. L. O. E., 1821-1893
Thomas Nelson & Sons ( Publisher )
Publisher: T. Nelson and Sons
Place of Publication: London ;
Edinburgh ;
New York
Publication Date: 1898
Subject: Christian life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Orphans -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Slavery -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Slaves -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Prejudices -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Charity -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Wealth -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Youth -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
History -- Juvenile fiction -- United States -- 1815-1861   ( lcsh )
Publishers' advertisements -- 1898   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1898
Genre: Publishers' advertisements   ( rbgenr )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
Scotland -- Edinburgh
United States -- New York -- New York
Statement of Responsibility: by A.L.O.E.
General Note: Title page printed in red and black.
General Note: Added title page, engraved.
General Note: Publisher's advertisements follow text.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00086668
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002238810
notis - ALH9334
oclc - 38623417

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Half Title
        Page 3
        Page 4
    Title Page
        Page 5
        Page 6
    Table of Contents
        Page 7
        Page 8
    A ride and a race
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
    Down in the dust
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
    Is there danger?
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
    Let him in
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
    The Negro and his master
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
    Difficulty and danger
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
    The meeting
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
    A desperate struggle
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
    Can he survive?
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
    A bold dash
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
    A passing meteor
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
    Who'll bell the cat?
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
    Gilding rubs off
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
    Cemented, not riveted
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
    Evil tidings
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
        Page 153
    The heiress's welcome
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
    A festival
        Page 170
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
        Page 175
    A storm
        Page 176
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
        Page 181
    Bitter but blessed
        Page 182
        Page 183
        Page 184
        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
    A lazy Negro
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
        Page 191
        Page 192
        Page 193
        Page 194
    The holly tree
        Page 195
        Page 196
        Page 197
        Page 198
        Page 199
        Page 200
        Page 201
        Page 202
        Page 203
        Page 204
    The slave
        Page 205
        Page 206
        Page 207
        Page 208
        Page 209
        Page 210
        Page 211
        Page 212
        Page 213
        Page 214
        Page 215
    She keeps her word
        Page 216
        Page 217
        Page 218
        Page 219
        Page 220
        Page 221
        Page 222
        Page 223
        Page 224
        Page 225
    Sudden changes
        Page 226
        Page 227
        Page 228
        Page 229
        Page 230
        Page 231
        Page 232
    A lowly lot
        Page 233
        Page 234
        Page 235
        Page 236
        Page 237
        Page 238
        Page 239
        Page 240
        Page 241
        Page 242
        Page 243
        Page 244
    A surprise
        Page 245
        Page 246
        Page 247
        Page 248
        Page 249
        Page 250
        Page 251
    A bonfire
        Page 252
        Page 253
        Page 254
        Page 255
        Page 256
        Page 257
        Page 258
        Page 259
        Page 260
        Page 261
        Page 262
        Page 263
        Page 264
        Page 265
        Page 266
        Page 267
        Page 268
        Page 269
        Page 270
        Page 271
    Back Cover
        Page 272
        Page 273
        Page 274
Full Text



The Baldwin Library
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Page 261






Page 2F

SO-of 0N, nZrlsnaG- & 2HW- ron .

The Forlorn Hope


Author of "The Blacksmith of Boniface Lane,"
Beyond the Black Waters,"
SDriven into Exile,'
&c. &c.

London, Edinburgh, and New York


* o nt c n ts.






















.. ... .. 0

... 22

... .. ... 36

... 47

... 54

... 60

..... 71


S 86

.. .. 90

... 97



S 125

., 132




.. 161

... 170



XXII. BITTER BUT BLESSED, ... .. .. ... 182

XXIII. A LAZY NEGRO, ... .... .. 188

XXIV. THE HOLLY TREE, ... ... ... ... .. 195

XXV. THE SLAVE, ...... ... ... ... 205

XXVI. SHE KEEPS HER WORD, .. .. ... .. .. 210

XXVII. SUDDEN CHANGES, ... ... ... ... ... 226

XXVIII. A LOWLY LOT, ... ...... ... 23

XXIX. A SURPRISE, ... ... ... ... ... 245

XXX. A BONFIRE, ... ... ... ... ... ... 252

XXXLI CONCLUSION, .... ... ... ... 263




IT is a glorious morning in October. The sun's orb,
newly risen, is canopied by rosy clouds, and his beams
lighten up an earth decked out in the gorgeous hues
with which Nature, in the land of the West, makes
autumn yet .more beautiful than spring. Red, brown,
green, and gold, the leaves mantle the trees or carpet
the ground, glorious in their various stages of decay.
Afar in the east the waves of the broad Atlantic are
seen shimmering in light. A fresh breeze blowing from
the same quarter seems to Gloria Girling, who with two
companions is riding up a gentle ascent, to bear a mes-
sage of greeting from the dear old country," which she
has lately left behind. But there is nothing of an
exile's pensive regret to be seen in the blooming coun-
tenance of the maiden, Gloria looks like the very


impersonation of health and enjoyment. The bracing
air and the invigorating exercise of riding have given
added colour to her cheek and brightness to her beauti-
ful eyes. It is seen at a glance that Gloria is one to
whom existence has all the freshness of spring.
Though twenty years of happy life have been passed,
Gloria looks scarcely eighteen. Both her parents were
taken before their little one was old enough to know
her loss, and kind friends made the beautiful golden-
haired orphan their darling and pet. Girlhood had
been a happy time; for Gloria had been a favourite
amongst her school-companions, and her bright, energetic
spirit had made her a kind of leader amongst them. The
sunny little maiden had made friends soon, and could
boast that she kept them long.
"Gloria Girling is our strawberries and cream," cried
a merry school-fellow, comparing her to what she
deemed the most dainty thing in the world.
Oh no," retorted another; Gloria is no strawberry,
crouching close to the ground and hiding under the
leaves. She's a rosy-cheeked cherry, and high on a
tree-on the very topmost bough, too! Don't you
know she's the heiress of Holly's Delight ?"
For though Captain Girling's only child was not by
any means rich, being dependent on a pension which
would cease on her marriage, the girl had great expec-
tations. Her maternal grandfather, Basil Holly of
Holly's Delight, was one of the most wealthy land-


owners in Virginia, and Gloria, as his only surviving
descendant, was looked upon as a great American
heiress. Gloria, open-hearted and open-handed, cared
little for money for its own sake, but she mightily
enjoyed the sense of power which her prospects gave
her. She could do so much with her gold; she could
make so many happy. Gloria resolved that her name
should be enrolled amongst those of the benefactors of
mankind. Gloria spent many an hour in castle-build-
ing, and her castles were as bright and rosy as those
now girdling the sun. On disappointment the lively
girl never counted, and difficulties-should she meet
them-would be only like the little impediments over
which it amused her to make her horse jump. Gloria
would not have liked life to be one dead level, however
flowery and green.
Summoned to America by her elderly grandfather,
whom she had never yet seen, Gloria made the journey
under the protection of an unmarried relative of her
father, Miss Brown-an easy-going, kindly-tempered,
nervous maiden lady, who had passed the meridian of
life. The voyage to America was a fresh source of
enjoyment to Gloria, all the greater because the weather
was rough. It was the young lady's pride to pace the
wet, slippery deck with her gentlemen friends when not
another female passenger could keep her footing, and
poor Miss Brown lay groaning and moaning below.
Exhilarating to Gloria was the strong wind which


blew back her golden tresses and once sent her broad-
brimmed hat floating on the foaming waves. It was
fun to her to see even the lords of creation succumbing
to the heaving and rolling, some diving below, and more
than one losing his footing by a sudden lurch of the
vessel. Two of the gentlemen, however, never gave
their lively companion the opportunity of laughing at
their disasters: these are the two who are accompanying
her now on her ride.
On Gloria's right hand is Pindar Pomfret, the only
son of a Virginian planter, returned from a prolonged
trip to England, Italy, and France. Pomfret is tall,
intelligent, and handsome, with pencilled brows and
faultless moustache, in neither does a single dark hair
seem to be out of its place. The American is dressed
in a way to set off his personal advantages. His dress,
of the fashion approved in the last years of the reign
of William IV., has been made by a Bond Street tailor;
his spurs are of silver, and a diamond pin glitters in his
cravat. Alleine, on Gloria's left, is powerfully built,
but high-shouldered, with irregular features, and a
shock of brown hair which shows no sign of the touch
of a barber. But the most striking difference between
the two young men is seen in their mounts.. Pomfret,
sitting his horse with the ease of one from childhood
accustomed to riding, is mounted on a handsome bay
steed, bought for several hundred dollars. Harry Alleine
rides a heavy-looking beast, with drooping head and


damaged knees, hired from a livery-stable in Boston.
The young man had secured for himself a far better
mount, but had given up the white steed without a
word on finding that Miss Girling had a fancy for
Gloria, during the voyage, had received, either as a
charming girl or as an heiress, a good deal of attention
from her fellow-passengers, but especially from Pindar
Pomfret and Harry Alleine. The former had taken an
early opportunity of letting her know that his father's
estate, Lashwell, adjoined that of her grandfather, Mr.
Holly, so that Pindar would have the happiness of being
her nearest neighbour, and, as his manner indicated, the
fair lady's devoted servant. Alleine, an Englishman,
had been acquainted for years with Gloria Girling, being
a relative of her cousin Miss Brown. Harry never
made graceful speeches, but was always ready to give
his help in looking after luggage, lending his telescope,
or performing other little acts of kindness, not for the
heiress alone, but for every lady in the ship.
Pomfret has a haughty condescension in his manner
towards Alleine which shows less of courtesy than con-
tempt. "The Englishman has had the start of me," he
says to himself; "but he has as much chance of win-
ning the heiress as his clumsy brute would have of
success if started in a race against my Champion."
"You ask me where I got my singular name," said
Gloria, in reply to an observation made by Pindar Pom-


fret. "It was given to me by my father because I
chanced to be born on the day on which Waterloo's
battle was fought. I am rather proud of the name,
for my father was present in the glorious fight, and had
there two fingers shot off."
"A small price to pay for the honour of helping to
crush the Corsican tyrant," said Pindar.
"My father was a very gallant officer, though he did
not live to be more than a captain," said Gloria Girling.
"He led the Forlorn Hope at the storming of St.
Sebastian, and received a serious wound. Oh, what
tame days we live in!" exclaimed the girl, with the
flush of enthusiasm on her cheek. Men have no op-
portunity now of showing their mettle; there is no
chance of winning immortal fame, perhaps at the price
of life, by leading a Forlorn Hope in this prosaic, work-
ing-day world !"
"Excuse me," observed Alleine, who was, with some
difficulty, persuading his dull beast to keep abreast of
the horse of his fair companion. "I know those who
are at this moment leading a Forlorn Hope, facing an
all but irresistible power, ready to scale a well-nigh
impregnable fort, staking comfort, safety, life itself in
the venture."
"Who may they be? asked Gloria, in a tone of sur-
prise. "I had no idea of any conflict going on in
prosaic 1835."
A deadly conflict," said Alleine,-" between injustice


and right, between cruelty and mercy, between oppres-
sion and freedom."
"Bosh muttered Pomfret impatiently; but Gloria's
curiosity was aroused, and she unconsciously checked
her white steed that she might listen.
"You, an Englishwoman, will sympathize with the
struggle which brave men, ay, and gentle women, are
now making to repair the wrongs of the slaves."
"Of course I sympathize," cried Gloria. "I have
always been on the side of Sir Fowell Buxton and
others who have carried in Parliament our grand Eman-
cipation Bill. When I have slaves of my own," she
added naively, "the very first thing which I will do
will be to set every one of them free."
Easier said than done," muttered the young planter
between his teeth.
"Who are our Wilberforces and Fowell Buxtons
here ?" asked Gloria Girling.
"As I am an Englishman, let me first mention our
countryman Thompson," replied Alleine. "He who elo-
quently and successfully pleaded the cause of the slave
in our own island has crossed the Atlantic to do the
same here, and he is now in Boston."
Pomfret's unspoken thought was, "Would that the
mischievous fool had been drowned on the way !"
"Oh, I am glad that Thompson is here !" cried Gloria.
"I heard him speak in the good cause once, and he set
my spirit on fire. I dreamed all the next night of


trampling on broken chains and making a bonfire of
whipping-posts. I must be introduced to Thompson; I
must shake him by the hand before I start for Vir-
Pomfret's Champion here made a sudden plunge, and
then reared. The young planter had struck his spurs
into his tightly-reined-in steed, whether to make a
diversion from the conversation, or to vent his impa-
tience on something that could feel pain, we need not
pause to inquire.
"And what noble Americans are in the Forlorn
Hope ? You know that I must count myself half
American now," said Gloria, after she had watched
with an amused eye what she had supposed to be an
innocent display of horsemanship on the part of her
handsome admirer. How splendidly he rides !" thought
"First and foremost- began Alleine.
But Pomfret was determined not to leave all the
talking to Harry. "Let me give the catalogue of
heroes," cried the young planter. "Place to the ladies;
so first and foremost comes Mary Parker, who plays the
saint. She is a bold, forward woman, who prefers
public speaking to stitching or mending at home.
Next to her comes a wretched, seditious, low-born
fellow, called William Lloyd Garrison, the editor of a
trashy paper, only fit for lighting fires."
It is kindling a fire, a glorious fire," observed Harry


Alleine. "The Liberator, first issued about four years
ago, was-"
"Justly called by the Governor of Virginia 'an
incendiary sheet,'" interpolated Pomfret.
But Alleine went on without appearing to notice the
rude interruption. "The Liberator has been a powerful
means of awakening the public conscience here in the
Northern States, where, having spent here some years
of my life, I can in some measure judge of what is
passing. Garrison, the editor-"
"Was a miserable apprentice to a shoemaker, then to a
cabinet-maker," interrupted Pomfret. "It would have been
better for the world if the cobbler had stuck to his last."
"There may be two opinions about that, Mr. Pom-
fret," said Alleine, reining in his temper as his com-
panion was reining in his steed.
"Only amongst those who are fanatics or fools!"
exclaimed the slave-owner's son. "When the Mayor of
Boston was asked by the Governor of Virginia to ferret
out the editor of the mischievous so-called Liberator, the
mayor did not so much as know of the existence of what
in your wisdom you are pleased to designate as 'a power-
ful means of awakening public conscience.' He had to
send city officers to ferret out the rat. Garrison's printing-
press was found in an obscure garret, where his corps
of assistants was-one negro boy; and his supporters-
men of all colours: white men with dark designs, black
niggers with-"
(361) 2


"Stop, Mr. Pomfret," cried Gloria; "you are getting
a little too warm. No cause is furthered by abuse of
opponents. If this Garrison was a cobbler once, so was
our own great Carey. If his paper came out of an
obscure hole, it seems to have gained wings as soon as
it did so. The grandest work is often begun under
difficulties; the noblest cause is often treated at first
with contempt."
Your eloquence is charming," said Pomfret, in his
most flattering tone, in which, however, there was perhaps
a touch of satire. If Miss Girling were to describe a
nigger woman as Venus, we should all bow to the new
goddess at once. Yet, as Miss Girling has been only
three days in the States, her opinions may not yet be
finally formed. It may be as well to inform her of the
fact, patent to every American, that this fellow-this
Garrison-was but four years ago a jail-bird, flung into
Baltimore prison because he could not scrape together
fifty dollars to pay a fine for libel."
"A jail-bird !" repeated Gloria.
"Would you like to know all the facts of the case ?"
asked Alleine, taking no apparent notice of the angry
glances cast on him by Pomfret.
"I think that we had better try the mettle of our
horses, and not waste the morning in riding at this
snail's pace !" exclaimed the young planter, who was,
metaphorically speaking, sitting on thorns instead of a


Oh, I want to hear the whole story !" said Gloria:
' you have given me the black side of the shield; I must
have a peep at the silver.-Pray, Mr. Alleine, tell me
why this Jack-of-all-trades-cobbler, cabinet-maker,
printer, editor-was clapped into Baltimore prison."
"You know-perhaps you do not yet know-that in
the Northern States there is a law against conveying
slaves as a ship's cargo."
"A very good law, I should say," observed Gloria.
"I suppose that your hero Garrison was not put into
jail for breaking it."
"No indeed," was Alleine's reply; "he was thrown
into jail for trying to enforce it. Garrison's crime was
denouncing a certain Francis Todd for unlawfully con-
veying slaves from Baltimore to New Orleans."
"Perhaps Garrison could not prove the crime," ob-
served Gloria.
"Francis Todd himself confessed it," said Harry, with
animation. The ship-owner said, 'I should have pre-
ferred another kind of freight, but as times were hard
and money scarce, I was satisfied with the bargain.'"
"I hope this Todd was punished ? said Gloria; "I
should not have grudged him a flogging."
Here Pomfret's steed became so exceedingly fidgety
and restless that he seemed to cherish a design of
running away with his master. Gloria, however, only
turned her head for a moment, and said, "Do keep him
in check, Mr. Pomfret;'" and resting her little white-


gloved hand on her saddle, and half dropping her reins
on the neck of her horse, she turned towards Harry in
an attitude of attention, and repeated her question.
No: the false man escaped, the true man was pun-
ished," said Alleine. Garrison was fined, as convicted
of libel, though the libel had been but the simple state-
ment of a fact which could not be denied. He was too
poor to pay the fine, and so was cast into prison, where
he remained for seven weeks, till a kind-hearted mer-
chant, Arthur Tappan, paid the fine and set him free."
"How gladly would I have paid it!" cried Gloria,
with sparkling eyes.
"Garrison himself wrote from jail to his accuser: 'I
am in prison for denouncing slavery in a free country;
you who have assisted in oppressing your fellow-creatures
are allowed to go at large.' But-"
Here Pomfret's impatience burst all bounds. "I am
going to try Champion at yon thorn-hedge!" he ex-
claimed; "I dare you to follow: we'll have a race !" and
off he went at full speed.
The light-hearted Gloria was the one to accept the
challenge. She gathered up her reins, and with whip
and voice incited the swift white steed which Alleine
had given up for her pleasure. Harry, who knew that
his heavy hack could not clear a molehill, did not
attempt the impossible, but he watched with some
anxiety the result of the race. Over the hedge leaped
Champion, over went the white horse with its lighter


burden; Alleine could hear the merry, exulting laugh of
the lovely rider borne on the breeze. The young mer-
chant felt a pang of mortification: no man likes, on
account of bad horsemanship, to be placed in a con-
temptible light, especially in the presence of a maiden
whom he loves; he knows that his failure will be made
a matter of jesting far and wide, the difference between
mounts not being taken into account by those who did
not witness the race. Alleine feared that he would be
lowered in the estimation of the fair and fearless Gloria,
as, with an unpleasant sense of humiliation, he quitted
the enclosed field, instead of, like his well-mounted
companions, clearing the hedge by a leap.



WHEN the little party met again on the highroad which
the hedge skirted, and on which the gate opened, there
was mirth on Gloria's face, flushed as it was by the race,
and cynical triumph on that of Pindar Pomfret. Slightly
raising his velvet riding-cap to Harry, he observed, "I
see, Mr. Alleine, that you adopt the maxim of Shake-
speare's doughty knight, that the better part of valour
is discretion."
"One race does not satisfy me," said Gloria gaily;
"I propose a second, to be run by the same horses, and
over the same ground. We will return into the field,
and go again at the hedge."
It is impossible that-" Alleine began; but Gloria
gave him no time to finish the sentence.
"I am like Lord Chatham-I laugh at impossibilities!"
she cried. I'm to decide the conditions of the race, and
bestow a silver mug on the winner.-Are you satisfied
with the conditions ?" Miss Girling continued, turning
towards Pindar Pomfret.


More than satisfied with what our queen of the field
commands," he replied. "A silver cup from her hand
will have the value of a goblet of gold."
"You let me make the conditions ?"
Assuredly; your commands are law."
Then I, as queen of the field, ordain that the second
race should be run like the first, the only altera-
tion being that you and Mr. Alleine should exchange
Exchange horses:" exclaimed Pindar, taken by sur-
prise. "I should scorn to bestride an old hack that
would disgrace an omnibus!"
Gloria laughed merrily at the reply. "I see," she
observed, that more than one of the cavaliers thinks
that the better part of valour is discretion !" and shaking
her rein lightly, the young lady cantered her white horse
along the road, leaving her companions to follow at their
It may be supposed, from this trifling episode, that of
her two friends Gloria most favoured Alleine; but such
was by no means the case. Gloria found Pomfret far
more amusing, more deferential, more attractive than
the Englishman, whom she respected indeed, but who
was far too grave, and sober, and careless of fashion to
suit her fancy. Alleine was attentive and thoughtful
of her comfort, but he paid the heiress no homage; and
Gloria, not a little spoilt by her position, regarded hom-
age as her due. Was she not fair, clever, and spirited,


and an heiress besides-a prize worth winning, and not
to be easily won? Gloria was, as it were, raised on a
pedestal formed of thousands of bales of cotton and bar-
rels of sugar, and unwitting that the pile was entwined
and strengthened by chains and cemented with blood!
The heiress, in the heroic fashion with which some
imagine themselves to be capable of great deeds, when
not counting the cost, had resolved to make a noble use
of her position; but her good resolutions had in them
quite as much of pride as of pity for a suffering race.
Gloria believed herself to be capable of making great
sacrifices, but small ones she seldom thought of making.
It is as easy to win battles in the air as it is to erect
When the two gentlemen rejoined her, Gloria, whose
thoughts had again reverted to the Forlorn Hope, in-
quired of Alleine how she could obtain an interview
with Thompson and Lloyd Garrison. I want to see and
encourage these champions of freedom," said she.
I believe that Mr. Thompson, who has come to
America at Garrison's earnest invitation, is sharing his
quarters at the office of the Liberator, in Washington
Street," he replied. "There is a large hall connected
with it now; for the work is no longer carried on in
'an obscure hole,' but is patent to all the world. Indeed,
there is to be to-morrow a meeting of the Boston Female
Anti-Slavery Society in that hall, under the auspices of
our lady champion, Miss Mary Parker."


Delightful! I'll be there !" cried Gloria; and she
added, turning playfully towards Pindar, "I'll present
Mr. Pomfret with a ticket for the meeting."
"For you to go, Miss Girling, is a thing not to be
thought of for a moment!" cried the slave-owner's son;
"it would be improper, even dangerous. There is a
strong, a very strong feeling in Boston against slave-
emancipation. The current of opinion runs high; only
insane fanatics attempt to stem it. There is every pros-
pect of a row."
Then I certainly will go," cried Gloria. "I want of
all things to see a good row."
"Mr. Alleine is taking a great responsibility on him-
self by urging you to go where no lady would ever be
seen," said Pomfret with anger.
"I do not urge Miss Girling to go to the meeting,
I think that it might not be advisable for her to do
so; though," Harry added with emphasis, "some of the
noblest, truest ladies of Boston will be present."
"I will never suffer Miss Girling-"
"Heigh-ho! you are not my grandfather nor even
my guardian !" laughed Gloria. "I am not obliged to
ask your permission to go wherever I please. I should
go to the meeting if it were only to back this brave
Mary Parker. I admire, I honour her for pleading the
cause of a trampled race. She shall see that an English-
woman is ready to stand by her side, and defy the oppo-
sition of a Mammon-worshipping set of oppressors, who


deny to the Negro his rights, who forget that he is a
man and a brother I"
Gloria was not insincere in her enthusiasm, but she
was representing slavery to herself in the abstract as a
fort to be stormed, and her regard for the Negro was
a romantic idea, not that sympathy which is born of
Christian love. An incident which occurred a few
minutes afterwards will exemplify the narrow depth of
Miss Girling's compassion for the race over whose eman-
cipation she had so exulted in England, and for whose
welfare in America she intended to do so much.
"What is that object lying on the road before us ?"
she said, turning to Pomfret.
"It looks like a drunken nigger-woman," replied
Pindar, a little sullenly, for Gloria's last speech had
annoyed her suitor.
"Perhaps she is taken with a fit," observed Alleine,
and he rode towards the spot, followed by his com-
The object, on nearer view, was a painful one to
behold. A young negress, gaudily dressed, though her
bracelets were but of beads and brass, with a scarlet
turban on her woolly head, had fallen down in what
might be either a fit of drunkenness or apoplexy.
There was a gush of blood from mouth and nose, while
face downwards, her black fingers clutching the sand.
the negress lay, utterly unable to rise, in some danger of


"What a horrible sight!" exclaimed Gloria, turning
away her head in disgust.
"Loathsome !" ejaculated Pomfret.
"We must lift her, try to stop the bleeding, and take
her to some hospital at Boston," suggested Harry, as he
"Lift her! lift a black calf i" said Pomfret, with
mingled contempt and disgust.
"Let us ride back to Boston," cried Gloria, "and send
some one to help this creature." The heiress was im-
patient to get beyond sight of so repulsive an object,
and out of hearing of the guttural choking sounds
uttered by the miserable negress.
Alleine, kneeling on the road, was now attempting to
raise the woman sufficiently to enable her to breathe
"Help me! she is heavy," said Harry to Pindar.
"I had as lief touch a toad!" was Pomfret's reply.
Gloria saw with some disgust that Alleine's sleeve was
stained with blood. She was fully conscious that the
young Englishman was only doing his duty, but she
felt the strongest repugnance to assisting him in his
work of mercy.
Water-if we could only get water !" said Alleine.
"Is there no streamlet near, .no cottage whence we could
procure it "
I don't see why we should wait here I" cried Pomfret,
with impatience; I, at least, have something better to


do than waiting on a drunken nigger !-Miss Girling, let
us ride back."
And bring help," said Alleine, who had succeeded in
altering the poor creature's position, and who, with his
handkerchief, was trying to stanch the blood.
Help was near; it came without seeking. A light
cart, driven by a negro, beside whom sat a fair, pale
woman, simply and unfashionably dressed, turned a
corner of the road, and, to the relief of Gloria and
Alleine, came towards the spot. The stranger grasped
the situation of affairs at once: she lightly dropped
down from the cart, and then took out from it a wicker
basket which contained lint, several bottles, and such
sundries as denoted that its possessor was accustomed
to meet with cases requiring medical care. The stranger
was not in the least discomposed at the sudden call on
her humanity; she had too often acted the part of the
Good Samaritan to show any symptom of nervous flurry.
Calm as if she were in a church, with gentle touch and
quiet mien she proceeded to do all that could be done
for the suffering woman. The only words spoken by
the kind American were those of recognition of the
negress. "Why, it is poor Dido she said, in a tone of
"This is Miss Parker herself!" cried Alleine, respect-
fully raising his cap.
"There is a cottage just beyond that turn of the
road," said Mary, in a tone which sounded to Gloria like


music. Perhaps, Mr. Alleine, you would kindly ride
thither, and ask the good man there to bring a basin
and water, and help Sambo and myself to get our poor
sister into the cart. We will then take her to the
hospital in Boston, where she will receive the care
which she needs. Poor Dido! poor foolish Dido "
You know her, then ?" asked Gloria, as Alleine
remounted his horse and rode off in the indicated
"I have had a good many talks with her," was the
reply, but she is the slave of another."
Miss Girling, there is nothing to keep us; let us
return to the city," said Pomfret.
"You can go if you will," replied Gloria; I choose
to remain with Miss Mary Parker, and see the end of
this affair. Please tie my horse's rein to that stump.
and help me to get down from the saddle. I must see
the close of the adventure which has introduced me in
so unexpected a manner to a leader of the Forlorn Hope.
-I am so much pleased at meeting with Miss Parker,"
said Gloria, after dismounting. I am Miss Girling, an
Englishwoman, a warm supporter of the cause of Aboli-
tion;" and with just a touch of condescension in her
manner, Gloria held out her hand, which was quietly
taken when Miss Parker had laid down her lint. The
American was too much engaged with her work of
mercy to enter into conversation with the English lady.
Gloria watched with interest and a little surprise the


change produced in Dido by the ministrations of Mary.
Even before the water was brought, something poured
into the mouth of the negress had had almost instan-
taneous effect. Dido was at once roused from her
stupor, and opened a pair of large dark eyes. Almost
magical, with the help of water, was the alteration
which followed in outward appearance. Mary, with
practised hand, removed everything repulsive. The
gaudy, dust-soiled turban was replaced by a kerchief of
spotless muslin taken from Miss Parker's own neck;
her gray mantle lay over the negress's shoulders; every
stain was removed from face and hands; and Dido was
gently raised to the cart, where, half stupified still, she
was placed at the bottom of the conveyance, behind the
seat. All had been done in almost absolute silence,
scarcely broken by the pawing and champing of Pomfret's
horse in sympathy with his rider, who could scarcely
conceal his irritation at Miss Girling's lingering to watch
the attentions bestowed on a wretched nigger." Alleine
had been giving what help he might; his old horse was
quite willing to stand still and crop what grass he could
find by the side of the road.
Mr. Pomfret, your Champion seems restless," ob-
served Gloria Girling; there is no need for you to
linger here. Please ask the liveryman at Boston to
send a groom hither. Mr. Alleine will help me to
mount if the man arrive not in time. You see that I
am not alone; I have the best of company here," and


Gloria glanced at Mary Parker, who was replacing the
bottles and lint in her basket.
Pomfret still lingered, but not for long. Something
had occurred to his mind which made him turn Cham-
pion's head towards Boston, and soon the horse's hoofs
were heard rattling on the road which led to the city.
The sound appeared to rouse the negress into sudden
consciousness; the effects of the drink and of the heavy
fall were passing away. Dido raised herself to a sitting
posture; the expression on her face was one of extreme
distress. She seemed feeling about everywhere for some-
thing which she was unable to find.
Lost, lost-all gone-dey take ebery cent 0
Juba, what broder say! Jist dre'fu !" Dido wrung her
hands at the thought.
The poor creature has been robbed and perhaps
knocked down in her helpless state," observed Mary
Parker, as she took her place in the cart, after placing
her basket under the seat.
Her voice was recognized by the slave, who fixed on
her large dark eyes brimming over with tears. Dido
clasped her hands in a passion of strong emotion.
M.issy Mary she exclaimed; "it be yourself' jist
an angel come from de skies De goot Lord hab sent ye
to save poor wicked Dido when she be jist a-droppin,'
dropping' down into de pit! Ye jist catch her-when
she right ober de edge "
My poor Dido, I am thankful indeed that I have


been guided hither this day," said Mary, turning round
on her seat to face the negress, who was behind her. I
am going to take you now to the hospital in Boston,
where your hurts will be examined more fully."
"Not take to 'ospital-please not take me dar every
nigger dar treated as dirt. Diddy bery well, bery
strong; can work. Must go back to massa. He beat
me. Sarve Diddy right; Diddy drink fire-water as bad
men guy to get de dollars. Diddy no 'member dat de
bressed Missy Mary tol' her out de book o' God." In
an agony of penitence and shame, which touched the
hearts of Alleine and Gloria, the negress was sobbing
aloud. Mary's soft hand was gently laid on her shoulder.
"Dido, thou hast sinned-I would not make light of
thy sin; but there is One who suffered for sinners, One
who receiveth sinners, One who pleadeth for them with
His holy Father. Thou hast fallen indeed."
"Deep, bery deep!" interpolated the penitent slave.
" An' missy and Juba had tol' me so much, had allers
prayed for Diddy, an' yet she tooks de drink. Diddy a
critter not worth de savin'."
"I do not think so," said Mary gently.
Me nebber trust Diddy agen."
"No, my friend; thou must place thy trust upon One
who is strong to save. It is by faith and prayer that
we win the victory over besetting sin. And now, as
thou art willing to return to thy master, which is right
if thy strength be restored, tell me where he now lives,


that I may drive thee thither and plead with him that
he may show mercy and spare thee the stripes which,
thou dost own, thy sin hath deserved."
Massa hab cor to Bos'on; liv' now in big 'otel, Pensy
Street-what dey ca' it ?" said Dido, looking puzzled.
"Pennsylvania," suggested Miss Parker.
Dat's it, dat's de bery name !" exclaimed Dido.
Why, that is where I and Miss Brown are putting up
for the few days that we intend to spend in Boston in
preparing for our journey to the South," cried Gloria.
" Miss Parker, as we are bound for the very same place,
could you-would you mind letting me sit beside you in
your cart ?"
Certainly, if you prefer it to riding," was the
"I should feel it an honour, a privilege, to enter
Boston with you," said Gloria, springing up lightly into
the place beside Miss Parker.
This speech rather puzzled the simple-minded Meth-
odist maiden, who did not understand it at all. The
beautiful heiress had some idea, unowned even to her-
self, that she was conferring something like patronage
on a noble woman less favoured by fortune than herself;
that it was generous, almost magnanimous, to show her-
self ready to support one who was to run some risk in a
good cause. But Mary had no thought either of patron-
izing or being patronized by another; she lived in an
atmosphere too pure and high to be influenced by
(361) 3


worldly motives. To Mary rank was-greater nearness
to the Saviour; and riches-deeds of self-sacrificing love
done by His grace and for His sake. Had Gloria been
the Princess Victoria herself, heiress of that grand em-
pire on which the sun never sets, she would but have
been to the American maiden an object of tender inter-
est, as one with added power to serve God and man, and
added temptations to overcome.
"And what about your horse ?" said Harry, with a
"Oh, you will look after that, you are so good-
natured," was Gloria's reply. "Your steed and mine
came from the same livery-stable."
Miss Parker took the old well-worn rein, and told
Sambo, her freedman, to walk beside the pony, whose
pace was so slow that the negro had never to break into
a run. Dido was behind; she scarcely looked at the
English lady, her whole attention was concentrated on
her American friend.
"An' vat brought ee to Bos'on dis plessed day?" cried
the negress.
"Have you not heard that the meeting of the Female
Anti-Slavery Society is to be held here to-morrow, and
that William Garrison, and our good brother Thompson
from England, are likely to speak? "
Oh, bress 'em for it! bress ebery one as stand up for
de slave !" cried Dido.
Is it true, Miss Parker, that some unruly spirits in


Boston are likely to disturb the meeting ?" asked Gloria
It may be so; Satan does not usually see his fortress
attacked without making a struggle," was the reply.
Are you not afraid ?" asked Gloria Girling.
"I will trust, and not be afraid," was the quiet reply.
"Even speaking as the worldly speak, there is little
danger for women. Americans, my countrymen, respect
the weaker sex: I have never met with worse treatment
than having a few rotten apples thrown in my face by
boys; but the Lord guard Garrison and Thompson from
the sons of Belial. I fear that some, like Demetrius
of Ephesus and those of his craft, when they see that
their evil gains may be touched, may be ready to tear
in pieces any man who dares to speak a word against
Mammon, their idol."



IN a first-floor room, well-furnished, and of comfortable
size, in the Pennsylvania Hotel sits a lady, reclining in
an easy rocking-chair, after the fatigue of a morning
spent in shopping. The table beside her is heaped
with various purchases which she has been making in
the shops of prosperous Boston. There are articles of
millinery, stationery, perfumery, patent medicines, fans,
a saddle and shoes,-a medley of articles to supply every
want that may be met with in a Virginian plantation
not very near to any town. A handsome cheque from
Mr. Holly of Holly's Delight will cover every reasonable
bill, and leave a margin for travelling expenses. Gloria
does not fancy shopping, and hates accounts; she prefers
a ride in the fresh morning air: she has, therefore,
handed over all the business part of travelling to her
obliging cousin, Miss Brown.
"I could not drive a bargain or beat down prices,"
she had gaily observed when setting forth for her ride.
"You choose for me, Cousin Jane; I am easily pleased;
I care little about what I wear."


Because everything which Miss Girling wears is sure
to become her," had been Pomfret's gallant observation.
Pomfret has been, as the reader knows, the first of
the riding party to return to the city of Boston. His
appearance without his companions had at first startled
Miss Brown, who was of a nervous temperament, who
felt the charge of the heiress a responsibility and a care,
and looked on riding-horses as rather dangerous crea-
No; no danger of any kind at present," said Pomfret,
in reply to the lady's anxious question, as he took his
seat on a sofa. "Miss Girling has only chosen to lin-
ger a little on the road, to make acquaintance with a
very peculiar kind of individual, not exactly a lady,
nor a suitable companion for your beautiful and highly-
connected cousin."
"Who can that be ? said Miss Brown; "except our
fellow-travellers, we know no one yet in Boston."
"A certain Mary Parker, a great patroness of niggers,
to whom a skin black as soot is a letter of recommenda-
tion. She is to hold forth at a meeting to-morrow. I
may, of course, be mistaken, but I have an old-fashioned
prejudice against women speaking in public."
"So have I," said Miss Brown.
"Especially when their words are likely to stir up a
"Most unfeminine,". observed the lady, in rather an
abstracted manner, for her chief attention at the moment


was given to trying on a glove which was too small for
her hand. Can't get it on," she muttered to herself,
more interested for the moment in trying how far
kid may be stretched over plump fingers than in solv-
ing the question as to how far women's rights may be
"I should not care to trouble you about this matter,
Miss Brown," said the planter, "were it not that I feel
that the generous impulsive nature of Miss Girling re-
quires the gentle check of your wisdom and prudence.
It is possible-nay, not improbable-that she may wish
you to take her to this Anti-Slavery meeting which is
to be held to-morrow in Washington Street. My regard
for her-for you, my fear of distressing consequences
to both, make me venture to entreat you most earnestly
to refuse to go to a noisy, disorderly assembly, which is
only too likely to end in bloodshed."
"Bloodshed!" repeated Miss Brown, in a tone of
surprise as well as of alarm. "Why, I have attended
Anti-Slavery meetings in London, both before and after
the good Bill was passed, and when Sir Fowell Buxton
or some other fine speaker addressed the audience, you
might have heard a pin drop. We would as soon have
expected a riot in Westminster Abbey as in St. James's
"Ah! that was in London," said Pomfret. "Your
streets don't swarm with niggers; there are no slaves
waiting behind you at dinner, to free whom would be


to their masters like parting with dinner itself. You
have not the same interests at stake."
"We had interests at stake, Mr. Pomfret," said. Miss
Brown, resuming her struggle with the contumacious
glove, which she had suspended on hearing of bloodshed.
"Emancipation was a very deep dig into John Bull's
pocket, I assure you. Twenty millions sterling spent
on it made a good hole in the national purse." The
energetic pull which the lady gave, as she spoke, to the
obstinate kid certainly resulted in a split of considerable
size. Miss Brown dragged the glove off and flung it
down on the table.
What I mean, dear madam, is this. There is-
whether rightly or wrongly I do not presume to decide-
a great deal of excitement in Boston. There is no ques-
tion but that the battle fought on the platform will end
in something rougher than words. It would be un-
pleasant-I may venture to say unseemly, possibly
perilous too-for English ladies to be present at a free
"Bless me!" exclaimed peaceable Miss Brown; "but
I cannot, I really cannot think that matters could go
so far."
"You have lately arrived in the States, Miss Brown.
Perhaps you may never have heard that in Columbia it
has been made a criminal offence for a negro to have a
copy of the Liberator in his possession." *


That is what we should call tyranny, if in England,"
said Miss Brown; but Pomfret went on without appear-
ing to notice the interruption.
You may not be aware that the Legislature of Geor-
gia has offered five thousand dollars for the seizure of
the editor."*
"What would they do with the poor man if they
caught him ? ".inquired Miss Brown.
Perhaps what was done in Illinois to the incendiary
preacher Lovejoy. His mouth was effectually stopped,
and for ever,* by-"
Murder !" exclaimed the horrified lady, coming to
the dreadful conclusion from observing the expression on
Pomfret's face as he paused.
We don't call it murder here. If a fool choose to
stir up a rattlesnake, he must expect to feel its fang."
"Oh, I will have nothing to do with rattlesnakes
nor riots !" cried Miss Brown, now thoroughly frightened.
"Then certainly you must not take Miss Girling to
the meeting to-morrow."
"Assuredly not; I hope that it is to be held at the
other end of the town. I shall be afraid to venture out
into the streets."
You are perfectly safe in this quarter," said Pomfret,
rising to take his leave, for he felt that his work was
done. He shook hands ere he went with Miss Brown,
who was pale and trembling with fear.


After some little time Gloria's light, quick step was
heard on the stair, and looking bright with excitement
and beaming with pleasure she entered the room. As
she came into the apartment half laughing to herself, she
looked as if about to make some pleasant proposition, but
her cousin nervously forestalled her before she could speak.
No, Gloria, it cannot be. I'll humour you in every-
thing else, but I can't-I won't go to the Anti-Slavery
meeting to-morrow."
"I am sure that I never asked or wished you to go,
Cousin Jane; I never thought of asking you to do so.
Dear old soul!" Gloria cried, laying her hand in a half-
caressing, half-patronizing way on the elderly lady's
shoulder, "you may make your mind quite easy. I
shall never mount you on my hobby, nor carry you over
a thorn-set hedge. Put the idea out of your head, and
let me look over the pretty things which you have been
Gloria threw off her hat, pulled off her gloves, and sat
down by the table. This and that article was examined;
some purchases Gloria admired, others she tossed aside.
Such a colour would fly, such a pattern was quite old-
fashioned. Shoes were tried on, a large broad-brimmed
hat with ribbon streamers placed over Gloria's sunny
locks; she glanced, not without satisfaction, at her own
reflection in the framed mirror hung on the wall. Miss
Brown was satisfied that nothing was further from
Gloria's thoughts than attending a riotous meeting.


"We must exchange that muslin, it is frightful; it
looks as if it were spotted over with dice."
"And give back the gloves which I cannot wear,"
added Miss Brown; "I am sure that they are not Paris
kid. My watch stopped this morning; I must take it
to a jeweller's to have it put right. You will -come with
me, Gloria. We will do our shopping together after
luncheon; I find my nerves will not stand going out in
the morning, as I foolishly did to-day."
Oh, excuse me, Cousin Jane; I have no patience for
shopping. I have a great interest in negroes as a race,
but I don't care to see one grinning behind a counter; I
feel as if his black fingers would leave a stain on the
muslin. I am sure, Cousin Jane, that you can manage
all the business yourself."
Miss Brown, as usual, gave way after a feeble remon-
strance, which she repeated on the following day. She
had ordered a conveyance to take her about the city,
after she should have partaken of a substantial luncheon
at one o'clock. This meal negro servants brought to the
ladies in their own apartment, the table d'hdte being at
a later and less convenient hour.-
How the black fellows show the whites of their eyes;
how excited they look! And see the clumsy wretch! what
is he dreaming about? exclaimed Miss Brown, as the
man of colour, looking at the window instead of the table,
and starting at some sudden noise in the street below,
upset the sauce-bowl and poured its contents into her lap,


Gloria was not very sympathizing; she rose from the
table, and went to the window.
What is it-what do you see ?" cried Miss Brown,
her attention divided between annoyance at the injury
to her dress and the fear of a riot-a fear excited by the
words of Pomfret.
Nothing, nothing-only rough lads who are crowd-
ing round a man who is sticking placards on the walls;
they are talking, and seem a good deal excited, but I
can't make out what they say."
I'll give up my drive! cried Miss Brown. I
can't bear encountering crowds; one never knows what
may happen. Oh, this grease-it will never come
The placard-sticker is moving on, and so is his train
of boys. Indeed, but you must go out, Cousin Jane;
the street is as quiet now as Rotten Row in Sep-
Her meal restored the equilibrium of Miss Brown's
spirits, except as regarded the stain on her silk, which
she bemoaned every time that she emptied the plate
before her. For some reason best known to herself,
Gloria was impatient for her cousin's departure, and
with unaccustomed attention expedited it by bringing
in her parasol, and the reticule with steel clasp which
was Miss Brown's indispensable companion on her shop-
ping excursions.
"There, the good creature's off at last! exclaimed


Gloria, as the sound of the wheels of Miss Brown's hired
barouche announced that the coachman was driving
down the street.
A few minutes afterwards a very different style of
conveyance stopped at the entrance of the large build-
ing which bore in shining gilt letters the name PENN-
SYLVANIA HOTEL. The master of the establishment,
who was lounging in the hall, smiled with contemptuous
amusement at a little low cart, drawn by an aged pony
driven by a maiden in gray, which stopped before the
pretentiously grand steps which led up to the entrance.
There was no need for the visitor to send up her name;
Mary Parker did not possess such a thing as a card.
Gloria, who had been watching for her coming, ran
lightly down the broad staircase, passed through the
hall and down the door-steps, then, to the hotel-keeper's
surprise, sprang into the little low cart.
I'm so glad that you've come!" was her joyful
exclamation, as she pressed the hand of Miss Parker; "I
was sure that you would keep your promise to take me
to the Anti-Slavery meeting."
Mary did not reply to the greeting at once: her eyes
were fixed with a grave, somewhat troubled expression
on the recently-affixed placard; then those eyes glanced
for a moment upward, and Gloria caught the murmured
exclamation, He reigns-let the heathen rage as they
may "
But our brother must be warned," Mary added aloud,


giving her pony a stroke much sharper than he was
wont to receive from her gentle hand.
He has been warned," said a man of colour, who in
passing had heard the exclamation, and who stopped to
speak to Miss Parker, with whom he was well acquainted.
" I told him myself, and I hope and trust that he is now
out of danger."
Mary murmured what was either a thanksgiving or
prayer, and drove towards the place of the meeting.
Who was warned-who is in danger ?" asked Gloria
eagerly. Miss Parker did not appear to have heard the
question; her soul was absorbed in silent supplication.
She felt like one deliberately taking up a cross, like one
who is called to some solemn and difficult work for God.
Mary was hardly conscious of the presence of the young
English lady beside her.
The two formed a contrast in appearance and mien.
Gloria, who had not lost the notion of patronizing and
encouraging the Forlorn Hope, had an idea of strengthen-
ing her influence, whatever it might be, by making a
show of her wealth. The crowd in the hall of the
Liberator should see that a lady of social position
espoused the cause of the slave. Gloria had donned her
best dress of dark-green velvet, over which hung her
gold chain with a dozen glittering trifles appended; her
handsome hat was adorned with a scarlet feather, which,
to her romantic imagination, seemed an emblem of defiance
to all oppressors. Had Mary noticed Gloria's costume,


perhaps some gentle reference to what Scripture enjoins
in regard to women's dress might have come as a mild
rebuke from her lips. But Mary was earnestly praying,
and had not given so much as a thought to what her
companion was wearing.
So the two drove on together towards Liberator's
Hall, at the entrance of which was a mixed crowd, that
gave way on either side to leave a passage for the little
low cart.



BEFORE the meeting opens, let us introduce the reader
to some other actors in the Anti-Slavery struggle. To
do so we will go back to the evening of the day preced-
ing the meeting.
We enter a room on the ground-floor of a house con-
nected with Liberator's Hall, to which a side door gives
access. The room is evidently devoted to business, and
is totally devoid of ornament, except a plaster bust of
Washington, over a tall and well-filled bookcase. There
is a high desk, with a plain deal seat before it, now
occupied by a man whose work has evidently been cor-
recting proofs. Sheets damp from the press lie before
him, with marks of corrections, interpolations, and in
more than one place passages crossed out. Beside him,
on a lower seat, fashioned with a little more regard to
comfort, not lounging but leaning forward as if engaged
in conversation, sits a gentleman who in any quarter of
the globe would be recognized at once as an Englishman.
an exemplification of the well-known description.-


An honest man, close buttoned to the chin,
Broadcloth without, and a warm heart within."

Thompson looks shrewd and intelligent, with a large
bump of benevolence conspicuous on a rather bald head,
and a recent bruise on the broad forehead which sur-
mounts his frank, pleasant gray eyes. That bruise is
an honourable mark left by a hurled stone; for though
the Island stranger has had kindly greeting from some
quarters, in others he has had rude reminders of the dan-
ger of meddling with a profitable "domestic institution."
The occupier of the high stool before the desk is
William Lloyd Garrison, the editor of the Liberator.
However lowly may have been the occupations of his
youth, we see in Garrison the stamp of Nature's nobil-
ity; he looks like a born leader of men, strong, self-
possessed, and calm, with high forehead, piercing dark
eyes, and a resolute mouth. Garrison is such a man as
comes to the front in time of danger, readily followed,
intuitively obeyed. William Lloyd Garrison is in the
prime of life, having numbered thirty summers; we
recognize in him a leader of a Forlorn Hope, prompt
to act, ready to endure, willing to die if his fellow-sol-
diers might press on to victory over his corpse.
The only other occupant of the room is Juba, a young
freedman of colour, the servant and attached follower
of the Liberator. Juba is a shrewd, merry fellow, fond
of chatter, delighting in a joke, showing wide rows of
ivory teeth on every suitable and sometimes unsuitable


occasion, with implicit faith in his master, and a devoted
affection for his person, not unmixed, it must be owned,
with a little personal conceit. Juba has been named
Garrison's black shadow, and almost coal-black he cer-
tainly is, but in no other sense is there anything of the
shadow about the plump, comely, merry young son of
the South. Juba is in a corner of the apartment on his
knees, stitching together back numbers of the Liberator
for binding; he is not so busy, however, that he is not
able to take in every word that is spoken, as would be
seen at a glance by any one watching the negro's face.
Juba understands English well, though he speaks it with
less elegance than animation, and with a total disregard
for grammar.
"Would it be better to strike out that paragraph,
Thompson?" said Garrison to the companion at his side,
showing him the sheet in course of correction.
I don't see why it should be left out," was the reply,
after perusal and brief consideration. "It is true that
the old fable of St. George and the dragon is being re-
peated in history again and again. Wickliffe, Huss, and
Luther, one after another, encountered the scarlet dragon
of superstition, breathing out the fierce fire of persecu-
tion; we attack the bloated yellow dragon of lust of
gold, with the barbed tongue of cruelty and the poisoned
breath of slander."
"I'se bin in its claws," interpolated Juba; I'se had a
big grip from de dragon mysel'."
(301) 4


If God be with us, and He is with us," said William
Garrison, we must be victors in the struggle at last;
but we must not shut our eyes to its difficulties and
dangers, we-"
Here the conversation was interrupted by a knock at
the door which opened into the street; it was a feeble,
uncertain kind of knock, but quickly repeated, as if the
applicant for admission were at once timid and impa-
Unlock the door, Juba; see who it is," said Garrison,
who was going on with his task of correcting the proofs.
" We do not wish interruptions, but some one's business
may be urgent."
Juba rose, went to the door, and opened it a few
inches, so as to peep out into the dimly-lighted street
without admitting at once any one whose visit might
be unwelcome. Caution was needed in those perilous
"It o'ny littlee Massa Johnny," said Juba, slightly
widening the opening.
"Tell him that I am very busy to-night, and ask him
to come early to-morrow, if he wish to see me, before
the meeting begins," said Garrison, without laying down
his pen or raising his eyes from the papers before him.
Oh, but littlee massa be in big trouble; he be cryin'."
pleaded the kind-hearted negro.
"Let the child in," said Garrison, putting down his


A pale little boy, about ten years of age, entered.
He looked nervous, dazzled with the lamp-light, and
rather taken aback at finding a stranger in the apart-
ment. Hair limp, light, and long, eyebrows and lashes
almost colourless, with cheeks yet wet with tears, gave
to the poor child an appearance of debility and depres-
sion. Juba patted him encouragingly on the head.
He knew the boy well as the son of Mrs. Dawson, a
mild Abolitionist and a friend of his master. The freed-
man had had many a merry chat with the child.
What is the matter, my boy ?" said Garrison kindly.
as Johnny approached him.
The question upset the weak child altogether; he
burst into tears.
Come now, Johnny, you must play the man; crying
is only for babies," said Garrison, half reprovingly, as
he took the boy on his knee.
We'll help you if we can," added Thompson. "Just
tell us what is the matter."
In a broken, half-choked voice Johnny began, Baby's
got into a fit," and stopped short.
Come, tell us all," said Garrison, who guessed that
this was but the introduction to a list of other troubles.
" If baby has got into a fit, so have many other babies,
who have got out of them again all right."
"But Tom and Joe have come from school quite
sudden, wrapped up from head to toe, and their faces
all covered with ugly red spots; and they ran up to


mother, who was going to put baby into hot bath,
and clasped both mother and baby quite tight. Mother
started up and cried out, 'Small-pox !' frightened as if
a snake were hanging round her instead of the boys,
she was so sure that they would give the sickness to
"It was very inconsiderate in a schoolmaster to send
small-pox patients into a family without giving the
mother notice," observed Mr. Thompson.
What did Mrs. Dawson do ?" asked his friend of
the boy.
"She sent me off sharp for Dr. Prince: he was out.
I've been running all over the city to find him," cried
"I hope that you found him at last."
"Yes, else I couldn't have come here now. I didn't
know where else to come, for mother bade me not go
back to the house. I'm so tired and so hungry!" Here
soft-natured Johnny broke down again.
"You must stay here to-night, my boy," said Garri.
son kindly; "though," he added in a low tone to
Thompson, "I should never have chosen this time to
invite a nervous, sickly child into the house." Johnny
was no longer on his knee.
"No," observed Thompson; "a row to-morrow might
frighten such a milk-and-water little individual out of
his wits."
We must try to make some other arrangement for


to-morrow," said Garrison quietly; "but," he added in
a more audible tone, our little friend must remain here
to-night.-Juba, make up a bed for Johnny in my own
room, and take him now to the kitchen and see that he
has plenty to eat. He is crying from weariness and
hunger as well as from trouble of mind."
The commission was a very welcome one to the kind-
hearted negro, who was, moreover, very glad of a com-
panion with whom he could chatter at his ease. The
grave, anxious business on which Garrison was engaged
gave Juba little opportunity of having "a bit talkee
with massa," or of airing his own 'pinions," as he called
them, to any one else. Juba led off little Johnny to
the kitchen in triumph, assuring him on the way that
"small-pox be notink; I'se had it mysel'. It hanna lef'
even a bit mark, honey," and he pointed with satisfac-
tion to his own smooth, round, good-humoured face.



The tear down childhood's cheek that flows
Is like the dew-drop on the rose;
When next the summer breeze comes by
And waves the bush-the flower is dry "

JOHNNY certainly did not refuse to be comforted, and
under the influence of the kindly glow of the kitchen
fire, the dough-nuts and cold meat, with a bowl of flip
before him, and a merry, gossiping negro looking at
him with mirthful eyes, he began to see life in a much
more attractive light. The pale boy soon got into a
mirthful conversation with Juba.
I wish you would tell me all about your visit to
England," said the child, not neglecting his supper as
lie talked. "It seems funny to think of your crossing
the sea."
"Not de fust time dat me cross de sea," observed
Juba. "I'se brought from Afric when littlee nigger,
not much bigger dan Massa Johnny."
Can you remember that voyage ? asked young


"'Member it!" repeated Juba, with something like a
shudder. "Dare be sum tings dat be branded in-dare
mark no nebber wash out! Dat journey me an' scores
o' niggers was jist jammed up 'gether, as de herrins be
in de barrel-nebber no room to move, nebber no air to
breathe; an' wen un died or oder died, dare be jist a
tossin' over into de sea, an' de big waves hide 'em from
a'-'cept from de good God," Juba added with reverence.
"He see-He judge de cause of de poor dead nigger."
Don't talk more of that-it's horrid i" cried Johnny.
"Tell me what you saw in England," continued the
young American, whose ambition was to cross the At-
lantic himself, and behold all the wonders of the "old
country," in which his forefathers had dwelt.
The expression of Juba's countenance changed in a
moment. It was not natural to him to look grave. He
began with great gusto to tell of his visit to England in
company with his master.
"Wull, me seed jist eberyting and everybody," said
the negro, who felt himself greatly raised in the social
scale by his travels. "Me seed de king an' de queen,
but dey 'ad got no crowns on dare 'eds; dey no look so
grand as I 'spected. An' I seed lots of folks-lots !"
repeated Juba with emphasis, extending his black arms
to give more impression of countless numbers; "an' oh,
how dey did stare !"
What did they stare at ? asked Johnny.
"At massa an' me-'specially at me," said the negro,


unconsciously drawing himself up. Dare war big
grand meeting' in some fine 'all. De day be bery hot,
and de big 'all jist as full as could hold, an' we got on
dat call p'atform-so high" (Juba raised his hand to
the level of his head). "Den dat Massa Thompson he
stood up, an' p'inted at me, an' said a deal 'bout dat me
suffer an' me did-how me be watched an' sold in de
market; how me ran away an' be watched agen, an
flogged-flogged till de blood run down; an' how my
massa pity, an' save, an' buy, an' free me." Juba acted
with animation everything that he described. "Den
dare was sic a clappin' an' cheerin', me tink de roof
was agwine to fall down!"
"I should like to have been there," said Johnny.
Not o'ly in de 'all, but de time me walk 'long de
streets, always folk turn to look, as if dey nebber see
nigger afore. Says me to Englisher friend, 'Dey be
mighty taken wid me.'
"'Dey be making' lion of ee,' says he.
"'Dat mighty clever ting,' says I, laughing 'Folk in
'Mericay make a man slave, Britishers make him lion!
Dat ting be bery funny.'
"'Oh, Lunnoners do love lion,' says he. Dat set me
laughing' agen.
"'Dey run after lion,' say he.
"'In my country lion do run after man, here man
run after lion!' I laugh to go into fit."
Juba's thick lips in his mirth almost extended from


ear to ear. Johnny laughed too, though not understand-
ing the point of the joke.
But I find out soon," continued the negro, "dat lion
o'ly mean bery fine fellow; so den Juba say, 'I bery
fine fellow indeed. Juba walk like lion' "-the negro
threw himself into a ridiculous attitude, holding back
his head with a comical air of affected dignity; "'eat
like lion-much get fat; dress like lion-yellow jacket,
pink hanky roun' de neck wid bery big pin a-shinin'
like gold. Juba look bery big lion indeed.'"
"Did Mr. Garrison give you all that ?" asked Johnny,
in some surprise.
"No, massa no sic fool; but Britishers wat are gib
money an' lots of food-dat make Juba fat and proud.
At last massa he tol' me dat we war agwine back to
'Mericay, an' said, 'High time dat we go,' an' he look at
my bery fine dress. He tol' me too dat Massa Thompson
he would go wid us. 'Ye wait on him, an' clean 'is
boots,' say massa.
"I tink-lions nebber clean boots; so say I, 'No
mind cleaning' massa's boots, but nebber do dat ting for
no un else.'
"Massa look me full in de face, jist look me through
an' through. 'You do my bidding, boy, or quit my
service,' say he, not anger but resolute like." And Juba
went on to describe in his own peculiar dialect the
rebuke which he had received for his vanity and pre-
sumption. Garrison had told his freedman that he was


no longer free whilst bound by pride, which is the very
chain of Satan, and that those who refuse to cast it off
are bondsmen of a worse tyrant than any planter in
South Carolina. Massa put it so dat Juba cry, much
cry," said the negro in conclusion, "an' say I be ready
to clean de boots of ebery un in de ship; Juba nebber,
nebber leave massa's service."
"Do you love him so ?" asked Johnny.
"Do Juba lub 'is eyes-do Juba lub life !" exclaimed
the warm-hearted freedman, his dark eyes filling with
tears. "Juba lub massa better dan a' !"
"How long have you been with him ? asked Johnny.
Juba held up one of his black hands, and counted
with the other the fingers upon it. "Fibe years," he
replied; "jist afore massa print de fust Liberator. He
got nebber a critter to 'elp 'im at fust-but me; an'
massa had to larn me a many many tings afore I could
do much but gib 'im bodder. Dem days massa an' me
we lib up high-'ittle garret top o' dis house; de printin'-
press fill 'alf de room. Type bery bad, paper bery bad,
an' massa an' me we hab bery littlee to eat. Bery littlee
money come in; but massa he wud na gib up."
"And you helped with the printing ?" asked Johnny.
"Massa did most, but Juba clean type, an' help at last
to put dem in rows. Massa taught me 'bout littlee letters
an' big letters, a' to be kep' in dare own bit holes.
Massa show me so many tings dat me be so cleber dat
me tinks, Juba can print a' by hissel'. But oh, dem


letters be funny !" laughed Juba. Massa out; me put
one-two-three rows, bery neat-big letters, littlee
letters-jist right. Den print off, jist like massa-tink
me bery cleber. But oh, dem letters be funny laughed
Juba. On de paper all turn backwards-wrong way-
ebery one. De bs turn ds-look de wrong way! Letters
be contrarious critters."
So pleasantly passed the evening in the kitchen. In
the room above, Garrison, working till midnight, com-
pleted his revision of the proofs, Thompson sitting read-
ing beside him. The editor of the Liberator then showed
to his friend the paper which closed with the memorable
words which I transcribe as showing the indomitable
spirit of this leader of a Forlorn Hope against a gigantic
evil: "I am aware that many object to the severity of
my language; but is there not cause for such severity?
I will be as harsh as truth, as uncompromising as justice.
I am in earnest. I will not equivocate, I will not excuse,
I will not retract a single word. I will be heard."
Such a writer as this was not likely to escape his
share of calumny and persecution.



JOHNNY went out with Juba on the following day: the
boy was naturally anxious to get news of what was
passing in the home which he was not permitted to enter.
The freedman had something to do in the way of shop-
ping, and lengthened the time by gossiping, so that the
progress of Johnny and his escort was exceedingly slow.
Is Missy Mary come yet to Boston ?" inquired Juba
of a butcher's lad, who was weighing a piece of meat for
the massa's dinner.
"She came yesterday in her little cart, and a mighty
fine lady sat beside her," was the reply. "Your sister
was sitting in the back part, and looking seedy, with a
swelling on her face. I guessed as she'd been a-drinking
"Ah, poor Diddy!" said Juba, in a pitying tone.
" Her massa will beat her as he did afore; but I save
money to free her."
"I've seen Diddy to-day," observed a baker, saunter-
ing up with his basket: "she's at Mrs. Dawson's."


"That's my mother's name!" exclaimed Johnny.
"Can you tell me any news about the baby and the
boys ? "
"Not much," replied the baker; "but I can say that
it was Diddy as opened the door and took in the loaves,
and she told me that Miss Mary had spoken up for her
finely, and got her master to lend her awhile to Mrs.
Dawson. There were three children sick in that house,
and no one so much as to warm a basin of gruel, for the
help had run off."
"Diddy won't drink when she be wanted to work, an'
be trusted," said Juba. "It be idleness as does de
Miss Mary has killed two birds with one stone," ob-
served the butcher's lad, as he handed over the mutton
to Juba: "she has saved a nigger a thrashing, and got
a sick house supplied with a help."
Dat kind o' killing' be mighty nice kind," remarked
Juba. Missy Mary be always a-doin' dem kind o' tings.
She goes 'long smoothin' de stones out of ebery one's
"She may be coming in for some of the stones her-
self," said the baker, "if there be such doings at the
Liberator's Hall as some say be likely to happen to-day."
"Vat doin's?" cried Juba, his anxious curiosity
roused in a moment.
"Why, dy'e see that man there with a big roll of
placards ? he's brought 'em damp out of Homer's print-


ing-house. I saw him a-sticking one on yon wall. It's
said as Stevens and Means, the merchants, have had the
things struck off. They've their own reasons for want-
ing to stop Abolitionists' mouths, and it's not with sugar-
plums that they stop 'em."
Juba, followed by Johnny, ran off in haste to look at
the placard, whose gaudy colour made it conspicuous even
from a distance. With feelings of mingled alarm and
indignation Juba read the horrible advertisement, which
I copy verbatim.
"That infamous foreign scoundrel, Thompson, will hold
forth this afternoon at the Liberator Office, 48 Washing-
ton Street. The present is a fine opportunity to snake
Thompson out. It will be a contest between the Aboli-
tionists and the friends of the Union. A purse of a
hundred dollars has been raised by a number of patri-
otic citizens, to reward the individual who shall first lay
violent hands upon Thompson, so that he may be brought
to the tar-kettle before dark. Friends of the Union, be

"What does it all mean ?" asked Johnny of Juba.
The child was startled by the wild expression on the
negro's black face, as he tore down the vile placard,
and trampled the fragments under his feet, stamping
upon them as on some venomous snake.
"Mean!" exclaimed the indignant freedman: "dat


mean as bribe be gibben for murder; dat bad men-not
men but debils-gib reward for kill Mr. Thompson!
And dey not stop wid him. Massa, my own massa, dey
thirst for his blood next! But we run back-we tell-
we save!" and Juba darted away with such rapidity
towards Washington Street, that he was out of sight al-
most before Johnny could turn to see where he was going.
Juba, when he arrived panting and breathless, found
that he had not been the first to carry intelligence to
his master. Not only had another man of colour been
beforehand with him, but Dr. Prince, a well-known
physician of Boston, was in anxious consultation with
the two Abolitionist leaders, when, panting and agitated,
the freedman burst in upon them.
"Hab you heard-" gasped Juba, addressing his mas-
"We know all," said Garrison, making a sign to enjoin
You see," continued Dr. Prince, who had been inter-
rupted in the midst of a sentence by the noisy entrance
of Juba,-" you see that it is absolutely necessary that
Mr. Thompson make his escape at once."
"Absolutely necessary," repeated Lloyd Garrison, who
knew the imminence of the danger.
Thompson's genial face looked a little paler than
usual, and moisture glistened on his broad forehead,
but he otherwise showed little sign of emotion.
"Where can I escape to?" he inquired; "I am a


stranger in America, and know not whither to go. I
might be escaping from Scylla to fall into Charybdis."
"Here is the difficulty," said Dr. Prince. The city
is all alive: there is a great deal of excitement, and no
doubt every road leading out of Boston will be watched
by some of these fellows. You would be certain to be
attacked by ruffians on the way."
"Is there no house that would be open to shelter
me ? asked Thompson, turning towards Garrison, who
was deep in anxious thought.
Many; but they are the homes of known Abolitionists,
or of freed negroes, who would be certain to be suspected,
and their dwellings searched. You might involve them
in danger, but they could scarcely protect you from peril."
"I have it! cried the doctor, as a thought suddenly
crossed his mind. No one would suspect Mrs. Dawson,
a quiet widow lady, who never meddles with politics,
though an Abolitionist in heart."
"I would not run the chance of bringing a widow
into trouble," said benevolent Thompson.
Oh, no fear of that! said the doctor, smiling; it
is known that she has two small-pox cases in her house,
and that will keep it quiet enough. Mr. Thompson
would be safe there, if "-the doctor gaily added-" he
be not afraid of infection."
"But Mrs. Dawson's servant might not be trust-
worthy," said Garrison, who knew something of her
" help."


Here Juba, whom only his master's presence had kept
silent, burst into the conversation.
She hab no un wid her but Dido, my sister-poor
Diddy! who be flogged dead 'fore she say one word to
git friend o' de nigger into trouble. Dido nebber, nebber
"If she be like her brother, I could trust her indeed,"
said Garrison kindly. Certainly Mrs. Dawson's house
is in a quiet, unfrequented street. But the question
is, how could my friend reach it in safety ?"
"Yes," said the doctor thoughtfully: "the street is
some way off, and crowds are already beginning to
gather. How could Mr. Thompson get to the house
unnoticed ? "
In dat 'ere shut-up carriage ob yours as be standing'
now at de door, wid fat Sam a-sittin' on de box! cried
Sam could never keep a secret in his life; he is a
born blab," said Doctor Prince. He would let the cat
out of the bag."
I'se git Sam off de box cried Juba; can't nebber
let out cat if nebber know whar cat be !" and the negro
eagerly darted off to lure the black coachman from his
My fat slave will never be induced to get down; he
sticks to the seat like a leech. I think his legs must be
made of lead," said the doctor. But he knew not how
fertile in resource was the mind of Garrison's freedman.
(301) 5


Juba's loud voice was soon heard outside the street door,
speaking to the coachman. Dr. Prince went to the open
window to listen the better.
Sam! you just come in de kitchen; I'se summat to
show ye," cried Juba.
Can't get down," said the slave.
"But I'se summat bery partiklar to show ee," per-
sisted Juba.
Bring it out den; I won't get down for nobody."
Bring de crittur out! cried Juba, as if in surprise
at such a suggestion. Why, 'tis wat de Britishers call
-a lion "
A lion! exclaimed the astonished slave: d'ye
kep a wild beast in de kitchen ?"
Oh, he be a bery partiklar nice kind of lion," said
Juba, suppressing his strong inclination to laugh.
"Won't he bite? asked Sam anxiously, his curiosity
actually making him descend slowly from the box, some-
what in the fashion of a sloth descending a tree. A
lion was something which had never yet been seen in
Ye come in an' jist see," said Juba; and shaking,
half with anxiety and half with suppressed mirth, the
freedman led his companion to the kitchen at the back
of the house, which was reached by a short flight of
steep steps.
Now is your time !" cried Dr. Prince, turning sud-
denly round and addressing Thompson.


Not a moment is to be lost," said Garrison to his
But I leave you in danger-"
Never mind me!" cried the Liberator. "I have
many friends in Boston; you are an Englishman and a
The doctor hurried Thompson out of the house and
into the close brougham, where he made him crouch at
the bottom, and then flung over the Briton his own
ample cloak.
There was indeed not an instant to lose. Fat Sam
toddled out of the house in a state of high dudgeon at
having been gulled.
"He call hissel' lion, I calls 'im jackass!" he angrily
"What are you mumbling about?" cried the doctor
angrily, putting his head out of the coach-window.
"How dare you leave the coach-box ? Get up at once,
you lazy fellow! and drive me to Mrs. Dawson's as fast
as you can make the horse go."
Juba had rejoined his master. The negro was chuck-
ling over the success of his little stratagem, and rubbing
his ebony hands together.
"Dar, off dey go! nobody suspek de doctor, nobody
search dat carriage. Massa Thompson safe; no un tink
he be in de small-pox house !" But suddenly poor
Juba's expression changed from mirth to one of anxious
terror, as the thought flashed across his brain that


though Thompson might be safe Garrison himself was in
imminent danger.
"O massa, massa!" cried Juba in alarm, de blood-
hounds will be a-comin' here! whar, whar will my
massa hide ?" He ran to the window, and then, turning
round, cried in distress, Too late, too late der be folk
in de street already, crowdin' to big door o' 'all. Ebery
one know massa's face; whar can ee hide ?" repeated
Juba, in sore dismay.
"I have been thinking over the matter," said Garrison
calmly. Of course I cannot attend the women's meet-
ing; my presence there would only endanger the ladies.
Under the circumstances, perhaps no meeting at all will
be held. I shall go up to the roof of Liberator's Hall-
you know the little stair in this house by which I could
easily reach it."
'Es, 'es: whar me goes up in de col' wedder to throw
de snow off de slates," said Juba. "But," he added
anxiously, "'pose de bloodhounds go up de littlee stair
too, an' throw massa down from de roof!" The negro's
eyes dilated wide with the horrible thought.
"I shall take with me-you shall carry up for me-
the large coil of rope which we keep in case of fire, and
which can be fastened firmly to one of the ducts made
to carry off water. If the worst come to the worst, I
can drop by means of that rope into the yard at the back
of the hall, and through the door beyond (you will
leave it unfastened) can quickly reach the back street."


"Much, much difficult-much, much danger," said
Juba, looking sorely perplexed.
The difficulty and danger of dropping down by the
rope is an advantage," said Garrison, "for no one is
likely to follow me in the perilous descent. I am a
strong, active man, and God will help me. I shall at
least get a fair start, especially if I lock the door of that
back-yard behind me. Do not look so anxious, my boy.
I doubt whether any one will search for me on the roof.
Its parapet is high enough to conceal me from the view
of any one passing below, if I crouch down near it."
Juba's mind was not satisfied: he was as much
frightened as when, trying to escape from slavery, he
himself had been hunted by merciless men.
Garrison wrote a brief note to be delivered to Miss
Parker should she venture to come to the hall. His
hand did not shake, his writing was clear and firm;
but Juba was trembling violently as if in a fit of ague.
My boy, where is your faith ?" said Garrison, in a
tone of gentle reproof. Have you forgotten One with-
out whom not a sparrow can fall to the ground ?"
"Me bery weak, faithless nigger!" said the poor
fellow with tears, as he took up the note directed to
Miss Parker.
You must not take that-ruffians might deal hardly
with you; some white messenger would be better," said
the leader. "Ah! here comes the very person," he
added, as little Johnny, who had succeeded in getting


news of his own family, appeared at the door.-
"Johnny, do you know if our friend Miss Parker has
arrived ?"
"Yes; she's just driving up in her little cart, with a
wonderful fine lady beside her."
"Give this to Miss Parker," said Garrison, holding
out the note with a smile. "And don't you stay for
the meeting, my child; you be off to the old lady-you
know whom I mean-she will give you a dinner and
maybe a bed, for we shall have noisy folk here."



PERHAPS Gloria's strongest emotion when she entered
Liberator's Hall was one of surprise. She had expected
to see a large mixed assembly, such as she had beheld
in London, and to hear a good deal of sensational
speechifying, arousing, perhaps, a good deal of angry
excitement. But at first the benches were almost
empty, and none but women, a few white and a few
mulatto, grave, anxious, solemn-looking individuals, came
quietly dropping in by twos and threes. To Gloria the
whole affair seemed a miserable failure; and yet to one
who knew the circumstances under which that meeting
was held, there was in it something grand, even sublime.
Every woman that appeared came at risk of insult and
annoyance, if not something worse. Only resolute
spirits had entered that hall. We may except little
Johnny, who came in as if stealthily, though there was
nothing yet to alarm him, unless it were the gravity of
the faces around, He laid the note before Miss Parker,
who had just taken, as-presiding lady, a central seat


behind a table on which lay a Bible and papers, with
pens and a black marble inkstand. Gloria placed her-
self next to Miss Parker, feeling a little mortified that
none of these "trim dowdies paid her any attention,
or seemed even to bestow a glance on her brilliant
scarlet feather.
"Where is Garrison ?" whispered Gloria to Mary,
who was reading her letter. Johnny had run off as soon
as his errand was done.
Garrison cannot be present," was Mary's reply.
And Thompson ?"
"He too cannot attend."
Gloria felt somewhat angry as well as disappointed.
" Here are fine leaders of a Forlorn Hope !" she thought
to herself. They dare not show themselves for fear
of a howl from a mob, and they leave a set of dowdy
women, not a lady amongst them, to lead the attack "
Mary, after perusing Garrison's note, without making
any comment on its contents, handed it on to a friend
whose shadowed complexion showed a mixture of Negro
blood. The friend looked alarmed and perplexed.
"Art thou still going to hold the meeting, sister ? "
said the dark woman to Mary Parker.
"Assuredly: my word is pledged; a burden is laid
upon me; I must speak out the message put into my
mouth. Enemies come against us; but the Lord could
make an effective weapon even of the jawbone of an ass.
-My sisters, let us pray."


Mary knelt down and offered an opening prayer-a
strange ominous sound from outside, like the muttering
of a coming tempest or the dashing of waves on a
stony beach, being the accompaniment to her words.
Gloria could not help turning round to watch the door;
but Mary moved not her head. "What a firm spirit!"
thought her companion.
Then, as the women rose from their knees, the tem-
pest broke, and like the waves bursting bounds, the
mob from without rushed in. In ten seconds the hall
was filled.
Where is Thompson-where is the vile Britisher ?
where the scoundrel Garrison ?" cried scores of rude
voices at once.
"They are not here," said Mary, calmly surveying the
excited, angry faces. I do not know where they are."
"That's a lie !" shouted one coarse voice; but-it was
silenced at once by a murmur of disapproval even from
that savage crowd. Even enemies respected the high-
souled woman who, like her Master, went about doing
good. Not a man present but knew Mary Parker to
be incapable of telling a lie.
The maiden's composure was a principal reason for
the premises not being searched at once for the missing
leaders. There was a general impression that Garrison
and Thompson must have escaped during the preceding
night, as they doubtless would have done had they
known the imminence of their danger.


"Brothers I have come here to say what the Master
gives me to speak," said Mary, in her melodious tones.
" Will you kindly be silent, if you wish to listen; or if
not, will you leave the hall ?"
A queen might have envied the unconscious dignity
with which Mary uttered these few words. They pro-
duced an instant effect. There was a hush among the
fiery crowd, and a good many men took their seats on
the benches-a strange congregation for a singular
Gloria had expected to hear sensational addresses
describing the horrors of the slave-trade, the cruelties
practised on helpless negroes. There was nothing of
the kind in Mary's address. Those to whom she spoke
knew of those horrors and cruelties only too well.
Mary did not strike at the huge gnarled trunk of the
upas tree, nor tell her hearers of its death-dropping
fruit. She spoke of the deep root from which all
crime springs-self in the inmost heart, usurping the
throne of God. Gloria had looked for a stirring speech;
she heard a short, searching sermon, whose lesson was
..'iiil:le for the gay young heiress as for any slave-
ldr pl:.,sent. Self was the usurper denounced, self
the idol to whom all the world bowed down. Covetous-
ness, injustice, cruelty, all manner of sin, came from self
taking the Saviour's place in the heart. Then Mary
briefly glanced at the object of the meeting. She said
that the daughters of America, the handmaidens of


the Lord, were gathered together to plead for the help-
less, to pray for the persecuted, and to show that they
recognized as brethren all, of whatever race, whom God
had created and whom Christ had redeemed.
This roused a murmur of angry dissent, and again
might a storm have arisen. Mary saw the gathering
cloud, and sank on her knees with the words, Let us
pray "
We cannot give the words of that earnest pleading
prayer, in which kneeling women joined, and to which
stern men, half awe-struck, listened. Even the roughest
felt that Mary was speaking to One who was present;
and the sense of that mysterious Presence oppressed and
solemnized the crowd if but for a few minutes. So
quiet was the hall whilst Mary pleaded, that it is on
record that Garrison himself "could hear her clear, firm
voice in prayer. Its sound hushed ruffians' threats and
curses into silence."
Just as the women rose from their knees, Gloria felt
a hand laid on her arm, and turning, saw the anxious
face of Pindar Pomfret. Never had he looked so noble
and interesting before to the eyes of the maiden.
"Come, come away, dear Gloria! forgive me, Miss
Girling; this is no place for you," exclaimed the hand-
some young planter, in a low, earnest voice. Fear for
your safety has brought me where I never 'intended to
come; to insure it I would imperil limb or life. I
earnestly adjure you, come! My gig is waiting at the


door of the hall. It is dangerous to stay here longer.
Do you not mark the fierceness in the faces around ?"
Gloria did indeed see what alarmed her, and muttered
threats were now heard; for when Mary ceased to speak,
the spell which had held the crowd was broken. In-
discreetly the mulatto woman had risen to address the
meeting, and was instantly howled down.
Gloria hesitated. She felt that going away was like
deserting her companions in danger. She glanced hesi-
tatingly at Mary, and, it must be owned, felt glad when
the maiden simply said Go!"
"Take my arm, dearest; lean on me," said Pomfret,
assumingg the part of a brother, and piloting Gloria
through the crowd, which was every minute becoming
more formidable and fierce. A new cry had arisen:
" Search Garrison's house !" It was echoed and re-
echoed from every side, and produced a rush which, but
for Pomfret's support, might have carried Gloria off her
feet. It was a very great relief to the poor girl to
find herself again in the open air.
Oh, what is going to happen ?" Gloria exclaimed.
"Do you hear that horrible, demon-like yell ?"
"Something terrible is likely enough to happen," said
Pomfret, as he hurried the trembling Gloria into his
gig, and then caught the reins from the groom. "Your
precious life has been saved from imminent peril."
The horse sped swiftly along Washington Street, but
Pomfret soon checked his speed. The young planter


would fain converse with the heiress, whom he desired
to impress with a sense of obligation which might
further his own suit.
I have been so anxious to guard you-to save you,
sweet lady," said he.
"I am much indebted to you," faltered Gloria, who
really felt grateful to one whom, in her nervous con-
fusion, she regarded as a preserver.
"Ah, it is in such scenes that we know our true
friends," said Pomfret, artfully pushing his advantage.
" Your fine Britishers scarcely show well when matters
come to the push. Thompson ran off as soon as he
scented danger; and as for Alleine, he took precious
care to keep himself out of the way."
Pomfret's speech was at once disingenuous and un-
just to Harry Alleine. Pindar wished to pose before
Miss Girling as a devoted champion who had dared
peril for her sake, though he was perfectly aware that
he, a well-known supporter of slavery and an owner of
slaves, had not run the slightest risk by going amongst
those who rightly regarded him as one of their party.
Harry Alleine had not even known of Miss Girling's
going to the meeting or needing protection, or he would
have been at least as ready as the young planter to
enter the hall, where to him the risk might have been
Pindar Pomfret drove more and more slowly, pouring
impassioned words into an ear by no means unwilling


to listen. What an opportunity of making an impres-
sion on the heart of the heiress Gloria's spirit had
been fluttered with excitement, and she believed herself
to be under obligation to one who had certainly taken
her from a distressing scene, though not to her one of
danger. At this juncture, so favourable for the success
of his suit, Pindar described his happiness, his very life,
bound up with the hope of a union with the beautiful
girl at his side. Gloria was not wiser than many other
maidens who are caught by flattering words, as flies are
with honey, and with whom personal advantages, of
which Pindar Pomfret possessed no common share, go
a very great way. Yet, while hesitating thus at a
critical point of her life, Gloria, before pronouncing the
word which might bind her for all its remaining years,
said with her natural frankness, I could not link my-
self with any one who-who did not espouse the cause
of the slave. I am, as you know, heart and soul for
the emancipation of the Negro."
"The Negro I am the warmest friend of the Negro,"
exclaimed Pomfret, with affected enthusiasm. "Was I
not brought up amongst negroes ? Did I not cling as a
babe to a negress nurse ? was I not lulled in my cradle
by her never-forgotten lays ? Here in the North men
and women talk of negroes and their wrongs, but in
heart despise all the race. We in the South make
negroes the playmates of our childhood, the companions
of our sport, and we cherish them in old age. Our dear


old blackies have no need to starve or beg when they
can do our work no longer."
But you keep them in bondage," said Gloria Girling.
Call it not bondage, that service of love. We do
not indeed tell our negroes at once that they are free,
no more than we should throw open our stables and
kennels and turn out our valuable horses and faithful
hounds to find food for themselves, or perish. When
the Negro is prepared for freedom, I and many others
besides will gladly, eagerly set him free."
It is needless to repeat more of what passed before
the gig was drawn up at the entrance to the Pennsyl-
vania Hotel. Pomfret sprang out, and then offered his
hand to assist Miss Girling to alight. With Gloria's
resting again on his arm, he ascended with her the
broad staircase, whispering soft words all the way.
Before Pindar, with light, joyful step, descended that
staircase, he and Gloria were pledged to that union
which necessarily forms, to a great degree, the blessed-
ness or bane of future life upon earth.



THE little steep stair of which Juba had spoken as lead-
ing up to the roof of the hall did not actually belong to
that building, but' to the adjoining one in which Gar-
rison lived and laboured. The two roofs were so closely
connected that it was easy to step from the one to
the other; the back-yard also was common both to the
hall and the house. There was no door on the top of
the stair, which was little more than a ladder to enable
repairs, if needed, to be carried out on the roofs; but
there was a small door at the bottom, to prevent any
draught of cold air from coming down from above.
This door was in that garret where Garrison and Juba
had carried on their first printing operations when the
Liberator commenced its career.
Garrison has passed up the narrow steep stair, and
Juba has closed the small door behind him; the freed-
man would have locked and barred it had it possessed
either lock or bar. In default of these, Juba has dragged C
everything of weight on which he can lay hands, to


block up and hide that small door. An old press was
in the garret; a coal-scuttle, heaps of firewood, boxes
filled with heavy books, Juba has carried up with toil
from a lower room, accomplishing in half-an-hour, by
desperate effort, what might have been deemed the work
of a day. Juba has piled up enough against the low
door to hide it completely; and now, his work done,
the poor weary negro seats himself on9 trunk which
forms part of the incongruous pile. He is listening-
listening as does the hare which hears the distant bay
of the hounds; with thick lips apart, distended nostrils
and dilated eye-balls, his hands tightly clinched, the
negro listens. Juba cannot hear Miss Parker's voice as
does Garrison on the roof of the hall, but anon there will
be tumult and noise which even the stone-deaf might hear.
Garrison, leaning on his arm, half reclines on the roof
of the hall, concealed by a parapet from the view of
any one passing below. What are his thoughts as he
raises his eyes to the blue sky above him, where the
white clouds, like snowy islands, are gently floating
along ? Garrison is thinking of his wife, thankful that
his loved one is not with him to share his danger-that
she does not even know of his peril. He is thinking of
his Helen, of the bride to whom he was united but last
year, and whom he has left in a quiet little home,
"Freedom's Cottage," at some miles' distance from Bos-
ton. To the leader of the Forlorn Hope life is exceed-
ingly sweet.
(861) 6


And life is very precious too, for a grand work has to
be done. Garrison knows that his brain and hand and
resolute will are needed. Can it be that such a course
as lies before him can be suddenly stopped by the brutal
violence of a mob ?
There is something more revolting to the spirit in the
idea of being battered and bruised, pelted and kicked.
tarred and fea ered by ruffians edged on by unprincipled
men, than that of standing on a battle-field to meet the
volley or to repel the cavalry charge. Garrison in his
solitary watch on the roof has nothing to animate him,
nothing to excite. He has fastened the rope, he has
gazed down from the giddy height of the roof, measuring
with his eye the depth of the descent which he may be
forced to attempt; now he must just wait-wait in
silence-till the peril pass, or burst upon him.
And yet William Lloyd Garrison is not only resigned
but happy; he is resting in that little Sanctuary"
which doubt cannot enter nor danger disturb. Keep me
as the apple of the eye; hide me under the shadow of Thy
wing, is with him less a prayer than an experience.
Garrison feels himself safe under that wing whose
shadow is light, under the protection of One without
whose permission not a sparrow falls to the ground.
The leader says to himself: The Lord is on my side; I
will not fear what man can do unto me. If death be
permitted to come, it will be to usher me into glory, and
others will be raised up to fill my place. But I do not


think that death will come; I shall not die, but live,
and live to complete the work which the Lord has given
me to do." But for the necessity of keeping silent,
Garrison's spirit, as erst St. Paul's, would find vent in a
song of praise.
But the case is very different with poor Juba, who is
watching in the garret below. All his sensations are
merged into two-agonizing fear for his master, and
desperate determination to defend him even to the death.
If Garrison above has the peace of the saint, Juba below
has the dogged courage of the watchful mastiff.
Then came the roar and the rush described in the pre-
ceding chapter; the heavy, quick tramp of feet, first in
the rooms below, then on the stair, then, after search in
other places, the fierce burst into the garret, where sat
Juba, fiercely rolling his black eyes, with his back against
the barrier which he had prepared with so much toil.
The place was in a minute filled with ruffian-like men.
There's something behind that mass of lumber; we'll
search.-Get up, you black hound! cried a man with
the countenance of a savage.
Juba did not attempt to move.
Get away !" A brutal kick followed the summons.
Massa must hear-massa escape," thought Juba;
"he must get time-time to slip down de rope! and
heedless of kicks and blows, the negro exerted all his
strength to maintain his post. But one man could not
hold his ground against a dozen. Bleeding, but heed-


less of his own hurts, Juba was dragged from his place,
and the pile of things constructed with such care was
flung apart in every direction; the little door was ex-
posed to view. Through it the enemy rushed.
Homer, the printer of the detestable placard, had his
foot first on the steep stair; but Juba, springing to his
feet, was second in the terrible race. The freedman
struggled to pull Homer back by the feet, but only
received another violent kick.
The two men, gasping for breath, are upon the roof.
" Massa no dare exclaims Juba with joy.
Just over the parapet-I saw him go. There's the
rope he clings by! cries Homer. I'll soon settle his
job!" and suddenly drawing forth and opening a large
clasp-knife, the printer makes for the place where the
rope has been tied. The bright steel flashes in the sun.
Another fierce struggle with Juba, who wrestles with
Homer, and even succeeds in wrenching the knife from
his hand and flinging it down into the court-yard below.
But Homer has been followed by many others. Juba is
with violence himself thrown over the parapet, and falls
heavily on the earth, at the moment that Garrison has
succeeded in touching the ground.
Fly, massa, fly!" comes from the poor crushed
negro's lips like the last gasp of the dying, and then-
with Juba-all is silence.
Many fierce faces are looking over the parapet, but
no one ventures to clear it. The rope has been severed.


Two or three slates are flung down with violence; one
of them strikes the bleeding, prostrate, mangled form
of Juba.
Garrison has time to fly-Juba's devotion has won
him a brief space for a start-but he cannot leave his
faithful servant to be crushed where he lies. The
leader stoops, and half raising Juba, drags him at least
beyond reach of pelting by slates. That pause has
destroyed Garrison's only chance of escape. Some of
his enemies, eager to interrupt the flight of their victim,
have hurried round to the narrow back street upon
which the door of the yard opens. That door has, as
we know, been left open, and a wild howling crowd
rush in. Enemies are before and behind. The faithful
freedman lies a senseless, bleeding form on the ground,
and the leader of the Forlorn Hope is in the hands of
his foes.
When I wrote THE FORLORN HOPE," I had nothing to go upon for
facts but the article in the Leisure Hour mentioned before. I wrote to
England for a fuller Life of William Lloyd Garrison, and after the comple-
tion of my tale a small volume has reached me. The little book is written
for young people," by F. E. Cooke. It is entitled An American Hero."
From it I have ascertained that Garrison married a wife worthy of him in
the year before the great Boston riot. The description of that riot is not
exactly the same as that in the Leisure Hour, but in the main points agrees.
There is, for instance, no mention of Mary Parker in the little book, though
names of other brave women are given, so it seems clear that the one record
has not been copied from the other. I plead guilty to having dressed up
fact with a great deal of fiction. Juba, for instance, is a creation of my
own, as well as the young English heiress and her adventures. But such
additions are lawful in a tale like mine. I only claim fact for outlines; the
filling up is left for fancy.



LET us return to the hall, now emptied of all but the
women, who, as may be supposed, are in a state of
terror and excitement. Mary Parker is entreated by
more than one to follow the crowd, and try to exert
her influence to curb its mad fury, and prevent a deed
of murder. Other women, falling on their knees, call
on Mary to lead them in prayer. The maiden knows
that the former course would be utterly useless, and that
the latter must be postponed. She seats herself at the
table, opens the ink-bottle, dips the pen, and proceeds to
write rapidly, appearing to be unconscious either of the
wailings of distress around her, or of the horrible noises
in the adjoining house.
The first note completed, folded, directed, Mary gives
it to her mulatto companion. Your servant is outside,
trusty, intelligent; let him take this instantly to the
Mayor of Boston; he is responsible for the preservation
of the peace of the city." The mulatto friend instantly
quits the hall; Mary again dips her pen; again a note
is rapidly written.


"Sister Agatha, my man is below with my little
cart. Bid him take this with utmost speed to the
Englishman who yesterday helped Dido. Sambo knows,
perhaps, where he lives-in the house next to the city-
hall, almost opposite the Pennsylvania Hotel. The
gentleman's name is Alleine; he must have this note
without a minute's delay." Mary's intuitive perception
of character leads her to choose the Englishman as one
who would be prompt to act, as well as fearless to dare
and quick to pity. Alleine had given Miss Parker his
address when they parted on the preceding day.
Agatha, hurrying to the door, is almost knocked
down by Mary's negro servant rushing in, terrified and
aghast, with the news: O missy, Juba's been mur-
dered he lies dead in de back-yard; and Massa Garri-
son-de mob lead him off to murder him too "
Take that letter to Mr. Alleine-quick!" says Mary
to her servant; she is deadly pale, but has not lost
her presence of mind. "Delay not a moment; and,"
she adds, pressing her hand to her brow, as if to con-
dense her thoughts, call at Dr. Prince's on your way
back, say that I entreat him to come here at once, with
appliances for a bad surgical case. It may be," she
adds, as the man quits the room to obey her chest, that
a spark of life may yet linger in our poor, faithful
A few minutes-very few-pass, and Mary Parker
is kneeling beside what appears to be the mangled


corpse of the murdered freedman, weltering in his blood.
It presents a ghastly sight, enough to quench hope in
most hearts; but Mary Parker, leaning on an Arm un-
seen, is not one soon to despair.
He is still warm," she says, putting her hand over
the poor negro's heart. Thank God, it still beats!
We must, with all care and gentleness, carry our brother
into the house."
Only sympathizers are around-tender-hearted women,
pitying slaves; the mob have gone off, intent on another
deed of blood. Tenderly, as if he were the wounded
child of a prince, Juba is placed on a mattress brought
from the house, and carried in by willing hands. He
has no power even to utter a groan.
Mary calls for water and bandages; in a minute, more
than one article of female dress is torn into strips. An
attempt is made to pour liquid into Juba's mouth, but
the negro's lips do not unclose. It seems every minute
as if the spirit must pass away.
Not half-an-hour elapses before the wheels of the
kind-hearted doctor's carriage are heard. Another
minute and he is beside the bed on which Juba's
mangled form is stretched. Mary has done all that
she could do, but this is a case beyond her skill. She
watches, in painful silence, the measures taken by Dr.
Prince, who has not neglected her injunction to bring
surgical appliances for a sufferer sorely hurt.
It takes some time even to ascertain the extent of


the injuries sustained by Juba. There is a compound
fracture of the right leg, at least two ribs broken, hand
fearfully cut, besides countless bruises and abrasions on
other parts of the body.
Think you that he ccn survive ?" says Mary, almost
afraid to ask the question.
Scarcely possible," replies the surgeon, shaking his
head; and yet there is sometimes wondrous vitality in
the Negro. This poor fellow's only chance of life depends
on careful watching and care."
"I will sit up with him to-night," says the daughter
of Mercy; but she will have no occasion' to keep that
It is not to be supposed that the doctor, almost
instantly after his arrival, was not eagerly asked
whether he knew anything of the fate of the Abolitionist
Thompson is safe in hiding," he replies.
But Garrison-Garrison! exclaims every voice in
the room, except that of the faithful freedman, a voice
which is never likely to be heard on earth again.
Ah, poor Garrison!" sighs Dr. Prince. But the
account of the fate of that leader of the Forlorn Hope
must be left for the following chapter.



WHEN Pindar Pomfret exultingly quitted the presence
of his betrothed, he did not leave her with that sense
of rapturous happiness, nor even that of perfect satis-
faction, which a woman is expected to feel after her en-
gagement to one whom she loves. Gloria was conscious
that she had, in a moment of excitement, taken a most
important step, but she was not delightfully sure that
such a step was a wise one. Her feelings might be com-
pared to a tangle of various coloured threads, and she
herself could not unravel it, nor clearly perceive why
the darker shades of doubt were twisted in with the
tints of crimson and rose. Perhaps we may trace the
varied reasons better than the heiress herself could do
at so exciting a time.
Gloria, as we have seen, had greatly enjoyed her posi-
tion as an admired and flattered beauty, her smile a
prize, and her will a law. She had now, perhaps, a
latent perception that she had suddenly, very suddenly,
closed this sunny spring-time of life, and exchanged


many admirers for, it might be, one master. Gloria had
acted on impulse, and sudden impulse often leaves time
for regret. Beyond this, when Gloria reviewed the
scene in Liberator's Hall, she felt that she had not
realized her own idea of a heroine, nor was she sure
that Pomfret, who had posed as a hero, had after all
done anything very heroic. As far as the maiden could
remember, not so much as an angry look had been
directed at Pindar, yet he had assumed the credit of
devotion to herself by escorting her through a crowd.
Nor was Gloria so dull as to be quite satisfied, now that
Pomfret was not at her side, with his affected enthusiasm
for the Negro race. Miss Girling was no fool, and she
had a suspicion, though she owned it not to herself, that
Pomfret's speech had been merely words, words, words."
Was that indeed "a service of love to which the slave
had to be kept by the lash ?
And there were other shades in Gloria's tangle. Mary
Parker's address had not been without its effect on the
maiden's impressionable mind. It had made the heiress
feel dissatisfied with herself. Mary's prayer had to some
degree softened Gloria's heart, and the English girl asked
herself whether she herself was not a worshipper of Self,
that usurper of God's rightful throne, that idol to which
all the world bows down. Was not such a fear con-
firmed by the very engagement into which she had hast-
ily entered ? had Gloria any reason to suppose that she
was linking herself to a servant of God ? Had she even


once asked herself that searching question, Am I going
to marry only in the Lord? Conscience, and Gloria
had a conscience though its voice was rather feeble, could
give no satisfactory reply.
Musing, thoughtful, pensive, Gloria stood by the win-
dow, apparently gazing on the large handsome town-hall
opposite, but in reality seeing nothing. Suddenly she
was startled by the ominous noise of a shouting, hooting,
yelling crowd coming up the street-the same horrible
sound, but worse, that she had heard when the mob
burst into Liberator's Hall. Gloria, excited and alarmed,
watched with a throbbing heart the approach of the
ruffianly gang. One figure in the throng arrested her
breathless attention: it was the noble form of the victim
whom the savages were leading to death. Garrison was
being hurried along, with a halter round his neck, to be
"lynched on Boston Common." It is recorded that this
leader of the Forlorn Hope walked head erect, caln,
like martyr going to stake." Ruffians might murder the
body, but they had not the power to subdue the daunt-
less spirit of the man. The words, as if whispered by
an angel, were sounding then in Garrison's soul, The
eternal God is thy Refuge, and underneath are the ever-
lasting arms. If the image of his poor loving Helen
rose before the eyes of the leader, the thought, Let thy
widow trust in Me, gave him strength to cast his care
on his Lord.
Oh, will no one interfere can no one save him !"


exclaimed Gloria, clasping her hands in keen distress,
as she gazed down on the scene.
The words had scarcely escaped her lips, when the
large door of the town-hall opposite was suddenly opened
just as the head of the crowd reached it. Two men ap-
peared at the entrance: one a stalwart, muscular Amer-
ican; the form of the other Gloria knew well-it was that
of Harry Alleine, but there was in him a strange trans-
formation. Never had Gloria before seen the young
Englishman, usually quiet and reserved, with such flash-
ing eyes, such an expression of stern resolution, fierce
indignation on his face. Only two men, and they
armed only with staves caught hastily up; but two, in
such a cause and with such a spirit, can fearlessly
encounter a hundred. Halworth and Alleine dashed
amongst the crowd like bold swimmers plunging into
surges; there was a struggle-a fierce one-Miss Girl-
ing watched it, terror and admiration alternating in her
breast, till the latter found vent in the triumphant cry,
" Oh, glorious-grand! they have thrust him in-they
have closed the door-they have torn the prey from the
tiger's teeth Harry Alleine Harry Alleine you are a
hero indeed!"
The balked mob clustered round the door of the town-
hall, and tried to batter it open; but ere they succeeded
in so doing, a third party appeared on the scene. The
great city of Boston was not without its guardians of
the peace. The riot at Liberator's Hall had taken the


civic authorities by surprise, but Mary Parker's missive
had effectually roused them, though late, into action.
A body of men, evidently under some discipline, for they
marched in rank, backed by some of the most respectable
citizens of Boston, came on the rear of the mob and
attacked them. The new-comers flourished their batons
and used them freely. One rioter after another was
seized and arrested, their companions making but feeble
resistance; indeed, a save qai peut spirit seemed to have
come over those who but a few minutes before had been
so bold in crime. Gloria watched the arrest of ring-
leaders and the flight of their followers with the keenest
satisfaction. Then the large door which had proved
such a sheltering barrier was unclosed again, and Gar-
rison and his preservers, with ruffled hair, torn garments,
and somewhat bruised features, came forth. Gloria
looked down now on smiling faces and looks of con-
gratulation, with shaking of hands and other tokens of
honest triumph and joy. Harry Alleine, flushed with
excitement and pleasure, glanced up at the window
which Gloria had flung open, and at which she was
standing, half leaning out, to obtain a wider view of the
scene. He met her smile, her radiant smile, and it
beamed upon him. Never had Gloria looked so lovely
as she did at that moment. Her lips were parted as if
to speak; but if words came, they were inaudible to any
one below in the street.
"Mr. Garrison, you and your two brave rescuers must


come and dine with me this evening," said the chief
magistrate of Boston, as he warmly grasped the Aboli-
tionist's hand. "I shall expect Mr. Thompson also."
Lloyd Garrison gravely declined the proffered honour.
"I have at my house a friend dying-or dead," he said
with feeling; "I can go nowhere till I see him."
As Garrison turned to depart, he felt a trembling
grasp laid on his arm; an agitated voice exclaimed,
"My William!" and he beheld his own cherished
Tidings of the expected riot had reached Helen in the
peaceful secluded cottage in which Garrison had left his
best earthly treasure, then in delicate health. Garrison,
at this anxious, stirring time, had been compelled to
remain a few nights as well as days in his Boston house;
but he had insisted on placing his fragile flower where
the blasts which howled around himself could not reach
her. Procuring for Helen the companionship of a female
relative, he had also, as far as possible, guarded his wife
from the knowledge that his own position was one of
imminent danger. But love such as Helen's soon took
alarm. A rumour had reached her of the state of affairs
in Boston, and Helen, weak and fragile as she was at the
time, had walked the whole distance-three miles-
alone, so full of anxiety for her husband that she seemed
insensible both to fatigue and personal fear. Mrs.
Garrison reached the city just when the peril was over.
Garrison was distressed at seeing his wife, lest the effort


which she had made should have harmed her; but how
dear to him was her love-sweet after bitter, rest after
storm! A vehicle was quickly procured, and in it
husband and wife returned to their home in Washington
Street together, Helen sobbing out her gratitude to God
upon the breast of her William, so mercifully preserved
from a violent death.



IT was a thrill of strange, exquisite delight which Gloria's
bright smile of sympathy and approval had sent through
the soul of Harry Alleine. There was also in that emotion
something beyond a momentary pleasure at his chival-
rous conduct being applauded by one whose good opinion
he specially valued. That smile was to Harry a kind
of revelation, as a brilliant meteor might suddenly
lighten up a fair landscape which had been in darkness
before. Alleine had for long cared more for Gloria
Girling than he would have owned to any being on
earth, but his had been an almost hopeless love; he had
never ventured to think that the heiress really cared for
him. Gloria's great expectations had seemed to Alleine
an insuperable obstacle to a union between them, even
could he (which, with self-depreciation, he thought a
thing well-nigh impossible) succeed in winning the
maiden's heart. Harry had felt that he could not ask
Gloria to make the sacrifice of her prospects, and he
knew that her grandfather, Basil Holly, the wealthy
(361) 7


planter, would probably, should Gloria marry an Abo-
litionist, cut her off with a shilling. Such a union
would involve a very great sacrifice, as regards the
world, on the part of the bride. Could I," Alleine had
asked his own heart, "even wish her to make it for my
own sake ?"
And another doubt had imposed on the young man
the duty of preserving a silence which he had never
intended to break. Was Gloria indeed the wife that a
Christian would choose ? was she one who would prove
a companion and helpmeet on a heavenly road ? A few
days before, Harry could have given no satisfactory
answer to such a question; but now the lover eagerly
collected evidence to prove, at least to his own heart,
that Gloria was a noble creature, whose religious advan-
tages had not, indeed, been great, but who only needed
transplantation into a purer atmosphere and richer soil
to develop into a generous, true-hearted, self-denying
servant of God. Love, in such cases, is an ingenious
special pleader.
"Did not Miss Girling utter-and she meant it-that
glorious resolve, 'When I have slaves of my own, the very
first thing which I will do will be to set every one of
them free' ? Could the high-souled Mary herself have
said more? Was not my Gloria-dare I think of her
as mine !-eager to grasp the hands of the Abolitionist
leaders ? Of one she said, that his words had set her
spirit on fire, and made her dream all night of trampling


on broken chains! Did not Gloria envy the friend
whose payment of Garrison's fine had set the noble
prisoner free? The fair, beautiful being is heart and
soul the friend of the slave !
"And with what saint-like humility was the heiress
of hundreds of thousands of dollars content to take her
seat in a low cart, beside one whom the world despises,
though the holy angels honour! What was the attrac-
tion which drew the rich heiress towards the Method-
ist maiden of lowly estate?-what but that secret, sacred
bond which makes all Christ's servants one family in
Him Sweet Gloria is not of the world."
Alleine's mind also dwelt with warm admiration,
coloured by love, on Gloria's courage and spirit in
openly attending an Abolitionist meeting, "careless of
danger, thoughtless of self." The young merchant
fondly pondered over all these traits of character, as he
deemed them to be, till the object of his affection grew
more and more in his eyes like a glittering white-robed
saint, whom he could regard with an admiring love only
short of worship.
"And, after all, would such a noble woman lose much
in merely giving up wealth-riches which could never
satisfy a generous spirit like hers ?" so flowed on the
current of the lover's reflections. Surrounded by slaves
whom she could not free, herself a slave to the whims
of one known to care little for aught but dollars, how
Gloria's soul would chafe, how she would suffer in seeing


wrong which she could not set right! Beautiful bird
of paradise, confined in a golden cage, would such a
being as Gloria be happy ? I cannot, will not believe
it! If such a selfish sycophant as Pindar win her,
will he-can he-prove himself worthy of such a price-
less treasure ? Never !" Harry unconsciously ground
his teeth at the thought. "No, it would be no real
selfishness to ask Miss Girling to share my humble lot;
to gain in exchange for wealth, on which lies the curse
of Heaven, freedom, a conscience at rest, and a husband's
devoted love!"
Such reflections satisfied Alleine's yearning heart that,
come what might, at least he would try his chance.
Miss Brown returned to the hotel from her shopping
expedition in a state of nervous excitement and flurry.
She called for sal-volatile, she declared herself ready to
faint, she spoke in gasps, and declared that she must
leave Boston at once; she had never believed that any
town in a civilized country could be in such a disorderly
state; she would be thankful to get back to old England,
and out of the way of such a disgraceful riot.
"But the riot is over, Cousin Jane; the ringleaders
safe in prison. There might be, I daresay, without risk,
another Abolitionist meeting held to-morrow."
This unfortunate observation of Gloria turned Miss
Brown's indignation against herself. The elderly lady,
raising herself from the cushions on which she had sunk,
and grasping with both hands the padded arms of her


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