“Yes.”

“And they mobbed you at Atchison?”

“Yes.”

“Well, please call on me at the office of the Missouri Democrat."

“And what is your name?”

“They call me B. Gratz Brown”.

And so Providence had prepared the way for making my appeal to the people.  B. Gratz Brown had the preceding winter, at Jefferson City, either given or accepted a challenge to fight a duel; but the public authorities had interfered, and some business connected with this matter had called him to Jefferson City.  But whence had he his knowledge of the mobbing at Atchison?  The Squatter Sovereign had been issued immediately after they had put me on the raft, and had contained the following editorial: 

On Thursday last [it was Friday], one Pardee Butler arrived in town with a view of starting for the East, probably with the purpose of getting a fresh supply of Free-soilers from the penitentiaries and pestholes in the Northern States.  Finding it inconvenient to depart before the morning, he took lodgings at the hotel and proceeded to visit numerous portions of our town, everywhere avowing himself a Free-soiler, and preaching Abolition heresies.  He declared the recent action of our citizens in regard to J. W. B. Kelley the infamous proceedings of a mob, at the same time stating that many persons in Atchison who were Free-soilers at heart had been intimidated thereby, and prevented from avowing their true sentiments; but that he (Butler) would express his views in defiance of the whole community.

On the ensuing morning our townsmen assembled en masse, and, deeming the presence of such a person highly prejudicial to the safety of our slave population, appointed a committee to wait on Mr. Butler and request his signature to the resolutions passed at the late pro-slavery meeting.  After perusing the resolutions, Mr. B. positively declined signing them, and was instantly arrested by the committee.

After various plans for his disposal had been considered, it was finally decided to place him on a raft composed of two logs firmly lashed together, that his baggage and a loaf of bread be given him, and having attached a flag to his primitive bark, Mr. Butler was set adrift in the great Missouri, with the letter “R” legibly painted on his forehead.

He was escorted some distance down the river by several of our citizens, who, seeing him pass several rock-heaps in quite a skillful manner, bade him adieu and returned to Atchison.

Such treatment may be expected by all scoundrels visiting our town for the purpose of interfering with our time-honored institutions, and the same punishment we will be happy to award to all Free-soilers and Abolitionists.

The Missouri Democrat was what was known as the “Tom Ben ton” paper of Missouri, and was not ostensibly a Free-soil paper, yet it vehemently inveighed against the ruffianism with which free State men had been treated.  Of course there was sympathy in the office of the Missouri Democrat, that made some amends for the rough treatment I had got at the hands of citizens of Missouri.