to let even
Captain Rynders interrupt the even and orderly progression of his
discourse: "Will the friend wait for a moment, and I will answer him in
reference to other churches?" "The friend" thereupon resumed his seat in
the organ loft, and Garrison proceeded with his indictment of the
churches. There was the Episcopal Church, whose clergy and laity dealt
with impunity in human flesh, and the Presbyterians, whose ministers and
members did likewise without apparently any compunctious visitings of
conscience, ditto the Baptist, ditto the Methodist. In fact "all the
sects are combined," the orator sternly continued, "to prevent that
jubilee which it is the will of God should come."

But the bully in the organ loft, who was not content for long to play
the part of Patience on a monument, interrupted the speaker with a
second question which he looked upon, doubtless, as a hard nut to crack.
"Are you aware," inquired the blackleg "that the slaves in the South
have their prayer-meetings in honor of Christ?" The nut was quickly
crushed between the sharp teeth of the orator's scathing retort. Mr.
Garrison--"Not a slave-holding or a slave-breeding Jesus. (Sensation.)
The slaves believe in a Jesus that strikes off chains. In this country
Jesus has become obsolete. A profession in him is no longer a test. Who
objects to his course in Judaea? The old Pharisees are extinct, and may
safely be denounced. Jesus is the most respectable person in the United
States. (Great sensation and murmurs of disapprobation.) Jesus sits in
the President's chair of the United States. (A thrill of horror here
seemed to run through the assembly.) Zachary Taylor sits there, which is
the same thing, for he believes in Jesus. He believes in war, and the
Jesus that 'gave the Mexicans hell.'" (Sensation, uproar, and
confusion.)

This rather sulphurous allusion to the President of the glorious Union,
albeit in language used by himself in a famous order during the Mexican
War, acted as a red rag upon the human bull in the organ loft, who, now
beside himself with passion, plunged madly down to the platform with his
howling mob at his heels. "I will not allow you to assail the President
of the United States. You shan't do it!" bellowed the blackguard,
shaking his fist at Mr. Garrison. But Mr. Garrison, with that
extraordinary serenity of manner which was all his own, parleyed with
the ruffian, as if he was no ruffian and had no mob at his back. "You
ought no