ntment
from the South. He set out to provoke his opponents. This purpose was
now the inspiration of every act of his life.

A group of six typical Northern minds had fallen completely under his
power: Dr. Samuel G. Howe, Rev. Theodore Parker, Rev. Thomas Wentworth
Higginson, Frank B. Sanborn, George L. Stearns and the Rev. Hon. Gerrit
Smith.

Gerrit Smith was many times a millionaire, one of the great land owners
of the country, a former partner in business with John Jacob Astor, the
elder, and at this time a philanthropist by profession. He had built a
church at Peterboro, New York, and had preached a number of years. In
his growing zeal as an Abolitionist he had entered politics and had just
been elected to Congress from his district.

He was a man of gentle, humane impulses and looked out upon the world
with the kindliest fatherly eyes. It was one of the curious freaks of
fate that he should fall under the influence of Brown. The stern old
Puritan was his antithesis in every line of face and mental make-up.

Smith was the preacher, the theorist, and the dreamer.

Brown had become the man of Action.

And by Action he meant exactly what the modern Social anarchist means
by _direct action_. The plan he had developed was to come to "close
quarters" with Slavery. He had organized the Band of Gileadites to kill
every officer of the law who attempted to enforce the provisions of the
Constitution of the United States relating to Slavery. His eyes were now
fixed on the Territory of Kansas.

There could be no doubt about the abnormality of the mind of the man who
had constituted himself the Chosen Instrument of Almighty God to destroy
chattel Slavery in the South.

He was pacing the floor of the parlor of the New Astor House awaiting
the arrival of his friend, Congressman Gerrit Smith, for a conference
before the meeting scheduled for eight o'clock. It was a characteristic
of Brown that he couldn't sit still. He paced the floor.

The way he walked marked him with distinction, if not eccentricity. He
walked always with a quick, springing step. He didn't swing his foot. It
worked on springs. And the spring in it had a furtive action not unlike
the movement of a leopard. His muscles, in spite of his fifty-four
years, were strong and sinewy. He was five feet ten inches in height.

His head was remarkable for its small size. The brain space was limited
and the hair grew low on his forehead, as if a hark back to the
prim