it shall not be, if I for one can
prevent it. Upon this great right let us hold on at all hazards. And
should we, in its exercise, be driven from public halls to private
dwellings, one house at least shall be consecrated to its preservation.
And if, in defence of this sacred privilege, which man did not give me,
and shall not (if I can help it) take from me, this roof and these walls
shall be levelled to the earth, let them fall if they must; they cannot
crumble in a better cause. They will appear of very little value to me
after their owner shall have been whipt into silence."

There are among the contributors to the Anti-Slavery cause, a few who
give with a liberality which has never been surpassed by the donors to
any benevolent association in the world, according to their means--the
chief of these is Francis Jackson.

In the month of May, 1844, while one evening strolling up Broadway, New
York, I saw a crowd making its way into the Minerva Rooms, and, having
no pressing engagement, I followed, and was soon in a splendid hall,
where some twelve or fifteen hundred persons were seated, and listening
to rather a strange-looking man. The speaker was tall and slim, with
long arms, long legs, and a profusion of auburn or reddish hair hanging
in ringlets down his shoulders; while a huge beard of the same colour
fell upon his breast. His person was not at all improved by his dress.
The legs of his trousers were shorter than those worn by smaller men:
the sleeves of his coat were small and short, the shirt collar turned
down in Byronic style, beard and hair hid his countenance, so that no
redeeming feature could be found there; yet there was one redeeming
quality about the man--that was the stream of fervid eloquence which
escaped from his lips. I inquired his name, and was informed that it was
Charles C. Burleigh. Nature has been profuse in showering her gifts upon
Mr. Burleigh, but all has been bestowed upon his head and heart. There
is a kind of eloquence which weaves its thread around the hearer, and
gradually draws him into its web, fascinating him with its gaze,
entangling him as the spider does the fly, until he is fast: such is the
eloquence of C.C. Burleigh. As a debater he is unquestionably the first
on the Anti-slavery platform. If he did not speak so fast, he would
equal Wendell Phillips; if he did not reason his subject out of
existence, he would surpass him. However, one would have to travel over
many miles, an