to the indignant gaze of all honest men."

The campaign at that time was made upon the illegality of the amendments
to the Constitution. Enthusiasm was fed by the fiery and impetuous
invective of Toombs. The utterances of most public men were guarded and
conservative. But when Toombs spoke the people realized that he uttered
the convictions of an unshackled mind and a fearless spirit. Leaders
deprecated his extreme views, but the hustings rang with his ruthless
candor.

The conclusion of his Bush Arbor effort was a fine sample of his fervid
speech: "All these and many more wrongs have been heaped upon you, my
countrymen, without your consent. Your consent alone can give the least
validity to these usurpations. Let no power on earth wring that consent
from you. Take no counsel of fear; it is the meanest of masters; spurn
the temptations of office from the polluted hands of your oppressors. He
who owns only his own sepulcher at the price of such claims holds a
heritage of shame. Unite with the National Democratic party. Your
country says come; honor says come; duty says come; liberty says come;
the country is in danger; let every freeman hasten to the rescue."

It was at this meeting that Benjamin H. Hill, who made so much
reputation by the publication of a series of papers entitled, "Notes on
the Situation," delivered one of the most memorable speeches of his
life. It was a moving, overmastering appeal to the people to go to the
polls. When this oration was over, the audience was almost wild, and
Robert Toombs, standing on the platform, in his enthusiasm threw his hat
away into the delighted throng. A young bright-faced boy picked it up
and carried it back to the speakers' stand. It was Henry Grady.

The defeat of the National Democratic party in 1868 disheartened the
Southern people, and the old disinclination to take part in politics
seized them stronger than before. In 1870, however, General Toombs
delivered, in different parts of Georgia, a carefully prepared lecture
on the Principles of Magna Charta. It was just the reverse in style and
conception to his fervid Bush Arbor oration. It was submitted to
manuscript and was read from notes at the speakers' stand. With the
possible exception of his Tremont Temple lecture, delivered in Boston in
1856, it was the only one of his public addresses so carefully prepared
and so dispassionately delivered. In his opinion the principles of free
government were drifting away fr