sordid acquiescence in the claims of oppression and tyranny! In that
hour he was sealed as an apostle of the higher law, to whose advocacy he
sacrificed his professional and social interests. The low-browed,
chain-bound slave had now the best orator in America to plead his cause.
It was the beginning of the end. Mr. Phillips, without doubt, sometimes
used intemperate language. I myself have at times dissented quite
sharply from some of his statements. Nevertheless, a man who rendered
such great service to the community as he did has a right to be judged
by his best, not by his least meritorious performance. He was for years
an unwelcome prophet of evil to come. Society at large took little heed
of his warning; but when the evil days did come, he became a counselor
"good at need."

I recall now a scene in Tremont Temple just before the breaking out of
our civil war. An anti-slavery meeting had been announced, and a scheme
had been devised to break it up. As I entered I met Mrs. Chapman, who
said, "These are times in which anti-slavery people must stand by each
other." On the platform were seated a number of the prominent
abolitionists. Mr. Phillips was to be the second speaker, but when he
stepped forward to address the meeting a perfect hubbub arose in the
gallery. Shrieks, howls, and catcalls resounded. Again and again the
great orator essayed to speak. Again and again his voice was drowned by
the general uproar. I sat near enough to hear him say, with a smile,
"Those boys in the gallery will soon tire themselves out." And so,
indeed, it befell. After a delay which appeared to some of us endless,
the noise subsided, and Wendell Phillips, still in the glory of his
strength and manly beauty, stood up before the house, and soon held all
present spellbound by the magic of his speech. The clear silver ring of
his voice carried conviction with it. From head to foot, he seemed
aflame with the passion of his convictions. He used the simplest
English, and spoke with such distinctness that his lowest tones, almost
a whisper, could be heard throughout the large hall. Yerrinton, the only
man who could report Wendell Phillips's speeches, once told my husband
that it was like reporting chain lightning.

On the occasion of which I speak, the unruly element was quieted once
for all, and the further proceedings of the meeting suffered no
interruption. The mob, however, did not at once abandon its intention of
doing violence to the gre