The champion was now on historic ground, ground consecrated by the blood of Crispus Attucks and his fellow-martyrs sixty-five years before.

His hat was lost, much of his clothing was stripped from his body, he was without his customary glasses, and was therefore practically blind.

He could hear the awful clamor, the mighty uproar of the mob, but he could not distinguish them one from another, friend from foe.

Nevertheless he "walked with head erect, calm countenance flashing eyes like a martyr going to the stake, full of faith and manly hope" according to the testimony of an eye-witness.

Garrison himself has thrown light on the state of his mind during the ordeal.