idea of the diminutiveness of the Liberator on the day of its birth.  The very paper on which it was printed was procured on credit.  To the ordinary observer it must have seemed such a weakling as was certain to perish from inanition in the first few months of its struggle for existence in the world of journalism.  It was domiciled during successive periods in four different rooms of the Merchant’s Hall building, until it reached No. 11, “under the eaves,” whence it issued weekly for many years to call the nation to repentance.  A photographic impression of this cradle-room of the anti-slavery movement has been left by Oliver Johnson, an eye-witness.  Says Mr. Johnson:  “The dingy walls; the small windows, bespattered with printer’s ink; the press standing in one corner; the composing-stands opposite; the long editorial and mailing table, covered with newspapers; the bed of the editor and publisher on the floor—­all these make a picture never to be forgotten.”  For the first eighteen months the partners toiled fourteen hours a day, and subsisted “chiefly upon bread and milk, a few cakes, and a little fruit, obtained from a baker’s shop opposite, and a petty cake and fruit shop in the basement,” and, alas, “were on short commons even at that.”  Amid such hard and grinding poverty was the Liberator born.  But the great end of the reformer glorified the mean surroundings: 

  “O truth!  O Freedom! how are ye still born
  In the rude stable, in the manger nursed;
  What humble hands unbar those gates of morn
  Through which the splendors of the New Day burst.”

About the brow of this “infant crying in the night,” shone aureole-like the sunlit legend:  Our country is the world—­our countrymen are mankind. The difference between this motto of the Liberator and that of the Free Press:  Our country, our whole country, and nothing but our country—­measures the greatness of the revolution which had taken place in the young editor.  The grand lesson he had learned, than which there is none greater, that beneath diversities of race, color, creed, language, there is the one human principle, which makes all men kin.  He had learned at the age of twenty-five to know the mark of brotherhood made by the Deity Himself:  “Behold! my brother is man, not because he is American or Anglo-Saxon, or white or black, but because he is a fellow-man,” is the simple, sublime acknowledgment, which thenceforth he was to make in his word and life.

It was Mr. Garrison’s original design, as we have seen, to publish the Liberator from Washington.  Lundy had, since the issue of the Prospectus for the new paper, removed the Genius to the capital of the nation.  This move of Lundy rendered the establishment of a second paper devoted to the abolition of slavery in the same place, of doubtful utility, but, weighty as was this consideration from a mere business point of view, in determining Garrison to locate the Liberator in another quarter, it was not decisive.  Just what was the decisive consideration, he reveals in his salutatory address in the Liberator.  Here it is: