I need not say, what the reader has already seen, that my life so far had been one of joy succeeding sorrow, and sorrow following joy; of hope, of despair; of bright prospects, of gloom; and of as many hues as ever appear on the varied sky, from the black of midnight, or the deep brown of a tempest, to the bright warm glow of a clear noon day.  On the 11th of April it was noon with me; I left Boston on my way for Raleigh with high hopes, intending to pay over the money for my family and return with them to Boston, which I intended should be my future home; for there I had found friends and there I would find a grave.  The visit I was making to the South was to be a farewell one; and I did not dream that my old cradle, hard as it once had jostled me, would refuse to rock me a pleasant, or even an affectionate good bye.  I thought, too, that the assurances I had received from the Governor, through Mr. Smith, and the assurances of other friends, were a sufficient guaranty that I might visit the home of my boyhood, of my youth, of my manhood, in peace, especially as I was to stay but for a few days and then to return.  With these thoughts, and with the thoughts of my family and freedom, I pursued my way to Raleigh, and arrived there on the 23d of the month.  It was Saturday about four o’clock, P.M. when I found myself once more in the midst of my family.  With them I remained over the Sabbath, as it was sweet to spend a little time with them after so long an absence, an absence filled with so much of interest to us, and as I could not do any business until the beginning of the week.  On Monday morning between eight and nine o’clock, while I was making ready to leave the house for the first time after my arrival, to go to the store of Mr. Smith, where I was to transact my business with him, two constables, Messrs. Murray and Scott, entered, accompanied by two other men, and summoned me to appear immediately before the police.  I accordingly accompanied them to the City Hall, but as it was locked and the officers could not at once find the key, we were told that the court would be held in Mr. Smith’s store, a large and commodious room.  This was what is termed in common phrase in Raleigh a “call court.”  The Mayor, Mr. Loring, presided, assisted by William Boylan and Jonathan Busbye, Esqs.  Justices of the Peace.  There was a large number of people together—­more than could obtain admission to the room, and a large company of mobocratic spirits crowded around the door.  Mr. Loring read the writ, setting forth that I had been guilty of delivering abolition lectures in the State of Massachusetts.  He asked me whether I was guilty or not guilty.  I told him I did not know whether I had given abolition lectures or not, but if it pleased the court, I would relate the course I had pursued during my absence from Raleigh.  He then said that I was at liberty to speak.