But enough--the municipal wiseacres having put their
heads together and evolved the brilliant plan of committing the prophet
as a disturber of the peace, immediately set about its execution, which
developed in the sequence into a bird of altogether another color. For a
more perilous and desperate device to preserve Garrison's life could not
well have been hit upon. How was he ever to be got out of the building
and through that sea of ferocious faces surging and foaming around it.
First then by disguising his identity by sundry changes in his apparel.
He obtained a pair of trousers from one kindly soul, another gave him a
coat, a third lent him a stock, a fourth furnished him a cap. A hack was
summoned and stationed at the south door, a posse of constables drew up
and made an open way from the door to it. Another hack was placed in
readiness at the north door. The hack at the south door was only a ruse
to throw the mob off the scent of their prey, while he was got out of
the north door and smuggled into the other hack. Up to this point, the
plan worked well, but the instant after Garrison had been smuggled into
the hack he was identified by the mob, and then ensued a scene which
defies description; no writer however skillful, may hope to reproduce
it. The rioters rushed madly upon the vehicle with the cry: "Cut the
traces! Cut the reins!" They flung themselves upon the horses, hung upon
the wheels, dashed open the doors, the driver the while belaboring their
heads right and left with a powerful whip, which he also laid vigorously
on the backs of his horses.
Pages:
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252