Besides these larger consequences there were others of a more personal and less welcome character.  The individual suffers but the cause goes forward.  Property-holders in Boston after the riot were not at all disposed to incur the risk of renting property to such disturbers of the peace as Garrison and the Liberator.  The owner of his home on Brighton street was thrown into such alarm for the safety of his property, if Garrison continued to occupy it, that he requested the cancellation of the lease and the vacation of the premises.  Garrison and his friends, all things considered, decided that it was the part of wisdom to accede to the request—­although this breaking up of his home was a sore trial to the young husband in more ways than one.

The landlord of the building where was located the Liberator office promptly notified the publishers to remove the paper not many mornings after the mob.  This was particularly hard luck, inasmuch as the most dilligent quest for another local habitation for the paper, failed of success.  No one was willing to imperil his property by letting a part of it to such a popularly odious enterprise.  So that not only had the household furniture of the editor to be stored, but the office effects of the paper as well.  The inextinguishable pluck and zeal of Garrison and his Boston coadjutors never showed to better advantage than when without a place to print the Liberator, the paper was “set up in driblets” in other offices at extraordinary expense, and sent out week after week to tell the tale of the mob, and to preach with undiminished power the gospel of universal emancipation.

But more afflictive to the feelings of the reformer than the loss of his home, or that of the office of the Liberator, was the loss of his friend, George Thompson.  It seemed to him when the English orator departed that “the paragon of modern eloquence,” and “the benefactor of two nations,” had left these shores.  Garrison’s grief was as poignant as his humiliation was painful.  George Thompson had come hither only as a friend of America, and America had pursued him with the most relentless malice.  The greatest precautions were taken after the “Broadcloth Mob” to ensure his safety.  The place of his concealment was kept a secret and committed only to a few tried friends.  There is no doubt that had these precautions not been observed and his hiding place been discovered by the ruffians of the city, his life would have been attempted.  Indeed it is almost as certain that had he ventured to show himself in public he would have been murdered in broad daylight in any of the large towns and cities of Massachusetts.  His mission was clearly at an end unless he was determined to invite martyrdom.  In these circumstances there was nothing to do but to smuggle him out of the country at the first opportunity.  On Sunday, November 8, the anxiously looked-for moment came when George Thompson was put upon a packet, in