ion, to the chair, made some eloquent remarks upon those editors
who had ventured to advocate emancipation. At the close of his speech a
young man rose to speak, whose appearance at once arrested my attention.
I think I have never seen a finer face and figure, and his manner, words,
and bearing were in keeping. "Who is he?" I asked of one of the
Pennsylvania delegates. "Robert Purvis, of this city, a colored man,"
was the answer. He began by uttering his heart-felt thanks to the
delegates who had convened for the deliverance of his people. He spoke
of Garrison in terms of warmest eulogy, as one who had stirred the heart
of the nation, broken the tomblike slumber of the church, and compelled
it to listen to the story of the slave's wrongs. He closed by declaring
that the friends of colored Americans would not be forgotten. "Their
memories," he said, "will be cherished when pyramids and monuments shall
have crumbled in dust. The flood of time which is sweeping away the
refuge of lies is bearing on the advocates of our cause to a glorious
immortality."

The committee on the constitution made their report, which after
discussion was adopted. It disclaimed any right or intention of
interfering, otherwise than by persuasion and Christian expostulation,
with slavery as it existed in the states, but affirming the duty of
Congress to abolish it in the District of Columbia and territories, and
to put an end to the domestic slave-trade. A list of officers of the new
society was then chosen: Arthur Tappan of New York, president, and Elizur
Wright, Jr., William Lloyd Garrison, and A. L. Cox, secretaries. Among
the vice-presidents was Dr. Lord of Dartmouth College, then professedly
in favor of emancipation, but who afterwards turned a moral somersault, a
self-inversion which left him ever after on his head instead of his feet.

He became a querulous advocate of slavery as a divine institution, and
denounced woe upon the abolitionists for interfering with the will and
purpose of the Creator. As the cause of freedom gained ground, the poor
man's heart failed him, and his hope for church and state grew fainter
and fainter. A sad prophet of the evangel of slavery, he testified in
the unwilling ears of an unbelieving generation, and died at last
despairing of a world which seemed determined that Canaan should no
longer be cursed, nor Onesimus sent back to Philemon.

The committee on the declaration of principles, of which I