Lane, now
Devonshire street, but the myriad-eyed mob, which was searching every
portion of the building for their game, espied him at this point, and
with that set up a great shout. The workmen came to the aid of the
fugitive by closing the door of the carpenter's shop in the face of his
pursuers. The situation seemed desperate. Retreat from the front was cut
off; escape from the rear anticipated and foiled. Garrison perceived the
futility of any further attempts to elude the mob, and proposed in his
calm way to deliver himself up to them. But his faithful Achates, John
Reid Campbell, advised him that it was his duty to avoid the mob as long
as it was possible to do so. Garrison thereupon made a final effort to
get away. He retreated up stairs, where his friend and a lad got him
into a corner of the room and tried to conceal his whereabouts by piling
some boards in front of him. But, by that time, the rioters had entered
the building, and within a few moments had broken into the room where
Garrison was in hiding. They found Mr. Reid, and demanded of him where
Garrison was. But Reid firmly refused to tell. They then led him to a
window, and exhibited him to the mob in the Lane, advising them that it
was not Garrison, but Garrison's and Thompson's friend, who knows where
Garrison is, but refuses to tell. A shout of fierce exultation from
below greeted this announcement. Almost immediately afterward, Garrison
was discovered and dragged furiously to the window, with the intention
of hurling him thence to the pavement. Some of the rioters were for
doing this, while others were for milder measures. "Don't let us kill
him outright!" they begged. So his persecutors relented, coiled a rope
around his body instead, and bade him descend to the street. The great
man was never greater than at that moment. With extraordinary meekness
and benignity he saluted his enemies in the street. From the window he
bowed to the multitude who were thirsting for his destruction,
requesting them to wait patiently, for he was coming to them. Then he
stepped intrepidly down the ladder raised for the purpose, and into the
seething sea of human passion.

Garrison must now have been speedily torn to pieces had he not been
quickly seized by two or three powerful men, who were determined to save
him from falling into the hands of the mob. They were men of great
muscular strength, but the muscular strength of two or three giants
would have proven utterly