sympathize in all your trials and hope that fairer skies will be over your head before long.  Garrison says, ’Give my love to Susan, and tell her I will do for her what I would hardly do for anybody else.’  I hope from that he means to attend your Rochester and Syracuse conventions....  You must be dictator to all the agents in New York; when you say, ‘Go,’ they must go, or ‘Come,’ they must come, or ‘Do this,’ they must do it.  I see no other way of getting along, and I am sure to your gentle and wholesome rule they will cheerfully defer.  God bless you all; and if you don’t get pay in money from your audiences, you will have the satisfaction of knowing you have given them the hard, solid truth as they never had it before.”

These meetings often took the form of debates between the speakers and the audience, and frequently lasted till midnight.  Of one place Miss Anthony says in her diary, “All rich farmers, living in princely style, but no moral backbone;” at another time:  “I spoke for an hour, but my heart fails me.  Can it be that my stammering tongue ever will be loosed?  I am more and more dissatisfied with my efforts.”  The diary shows that they had many delightful visits among friends and many good times sandwiched between the disagreeable features of their trip, and that everywhere they roused the community to the highest pitch on the slavery question.  She gives a description of one of these gatherings at Easton: 

That Sunday meeting was the most impressive I ever attended.  Aaron and I had spoken, Charles Remond followed, picturing the contumely and opprobrium everywhere heaped upon the black man and all identified with him, the ostracism from social circles, etc.  At the climax he exclaimed:  “I have a fond and loving mother, as true and noble a woman as God ever made; but whenever she thinks of her absent son, it is that he is an outcast.”  He sank into his seat, overwhelmed with emotion, and wept like a child.  In a moment, while sitting, he said:  “Some may call this weak, but I should feel myself the less a man, if tears did not flow at a thought like that.”  The whole audience was in sympathy with him, all hearts were melted and many were sobbing.  When sufficiently composed he rose and related, in a subdued and most impressive manner, his experience at the last village we visited where not one roof could be found to shelter him because he had a black face.  At the close of his speech several men came up, handed us money and left the house because they could not bear any more, while others crowded around and assured him that their doors were open to him and his sister.

From the home of her dear friend Elizabeth Powell,[24] where she had gone for a few days’ rest, she writes:  “At Poughkeepsie, Parker Pillsbury spoke grandly for freedom.  I never heard from the lips of man such deep thoughts and burning words.  In the ages to come, the prophecies of these noble men and women will be read with the same wonder and veneration as those of Isaiah and Jeremiah inspire today.  Now while the people worship the prophets of that time, they stone those of their own.”  Mr. Garrison wrote her: