The orator was worthy of the gigantic task attempted; and thousands crowded before him, every one of their hearts melted by that eloquence, beneath which Massachusetts had bowed, not unworthily, for more than thirty years." Here is a specimen of the sort of goading which the wild-cat-like spirit of the city got from the orators.

It is taken from the speech of Peleg Sprague.

The orator is paying his respects to George Thompson, "an avowed _emissary_" "_a professed agitator_," who "comes here from the dark and corrupt institutions of Europe to enlighten _us_ upon the rights of man and the moral duties of our own condition.

Received by our hospitality, he stands here upon our soil, protected by our laws, and hurls firebrands, arrows, and death into the habitations of our neighbors and friends, and brothers; and when he shall have kindled a conflagration which is sweeping in desolation over our land, he has only to embark for his own country, and there look serenely back with indifference or exultation upon the widespread ruin by which _our_ cities are wrapt in flames, and _our_ garments rolled in blood." The great meeting was soon a thing of the past but not so its effects.
The echoes of Otis and Sprague did not cease at its close.

They thrilled in the air, they thrilled long afterward in the blood of the people.
When the multitude dispersed Mischief went out into the streets of the city with them.