omen as could
be found in any European court. Yet these were the people so hated and
ridiculed by the press and the pulpit, whose grand utterances and
spicy debates were stigmatized as "the maudlin sentimentalisms of
unsexed men and women."

But let us follow these friends to the home of Lucretia Mott. A large
house on Arch Street, like all buildings in the city of brotherly
love, with white shutters, marble cappings and steps, and dining-room
on the second floor of the rear building. There are our stern
reformers, round the social board, as genial a group of martyrs as one
could find. Without the shadow of a doubt as to the rightfulness of
their own position, and knowing too that the common sense of the
nation was on their side, they made merry over the bigotry of the
Church, popular prejudices, conservative fears, absurd laws and
customs hoary with age. How they did hold up in their metaphysical
tweezers the representatives of the dead past that ever and anon
ventured upon our platform. With what peals of laughter their
assumptions and contradictions were chopped into mince meat. On this
occasion, William Lloyd Garrison occupied the seat of honor at Mrs.
Mott's right hand, and led the conversation which the hostess always
skillfuly managed to make general. When seated around her board, no
two-and-two side talk in monotone was ever permissible; she insisted
that the good things said should be enjoyed by all. At the close of
the meal, while the conversation went briskly on, with a neat little
tray and snowy towel, she washed up the silver and china as she
uttered some of her happiest thoughts. James Mott at the head of the
table maintained the dignity of his position, ever ready to throw in a
qualifying word, when these fiery reformers became too intense.

Theirs was the ideal home, perfect in its appointments, and where
discussion on all subjects took the widest range. Being alike in
search of truth, one felt no fear of shocking them. Those accustomed
to see priests and bigots, whenever a doubt was expressed as to any of
their cherished opinions, rise and leave the room with a deeply
wounded expression, were surprised to see James and Lucretia Mott
calmly discussing with guests, their own most cherished creeds, and
questioning the wisdom of others in turn. Freedom was not a deity in
their home to be worshiped afar off, but the patron saint of the
household, influencing all who entered there, giving her benedictions