While these gentlemen were speaking, I heard my keepers mutter, "If you don't hush up, we will tar and feather you." But when Kelley saw how matters stood, he came forward and said he "did not take Butler to have him hung, but only tarred and feathered," Yet in the saloon he had sad to the mob: "_You shall do as you please._" He dared not take the responsibility of taking my life, but when these unfortunate men, whose one-idea-ism on the subject of slavery and Southern rights has become insanity--when these irresponsible South Carolinians, sent out to be bull dogs and blood hounds for Atchison and Stringfellow--when they could be used as tools to take my life, he was ready to do it.
Our gunpowder moderator cut the matter short by saying, "It is moved that Butler be tarred and feathered and receive thirty-nine lashes." A majority said "Aye," though a number of voices said "No." The moderator said, "The affirmative has it; Butler has to be tarred and feathered and whipped." I began to speculate how that sort of thing would work as far north as the latitude of Kansas.

There was a good deal of whispering about the house.

I saw dark, threatening and ominous looks in the crowd.

The moderator again came forward, and, in an altered voice, said: "_It is moved that the last part of the sentence be rescinded."_ It was rescinded, and I was given into the hands of my South Carolina overseers to be tarred and feathered.

They muttered and growled at this issue of the matter.