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 unequal to the rescue, and this Mr. Garrison's
deliverers evidently appreciated. For while they employed their powerful
arms, they also employed stratagem as well to effect their purpose. They
shouted anon as they fought their way through the excited throng, "He is
an American! He shan't be hurt!" and other such words which divided the
mind of the mob, arousing among some sympathy for the good man.
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