The post-trader's was a popular rendezvous for all the settlers round.
It was a day in the summer of '55 that father visited the store,
accompanied, as usual, by Will and Turk. Among the crowd, which was
noisy and excited, he noted a number of desperadoes in the pro-slavery
faction, and noted, too, that Uncle Elijah and our two Free Soil
neighbors, Mr. Hathaway and Mr. Lawrence, were present.

Father's appearance was greeted by a clamor for a speech. To speak
before that audience was to take his life in his hands; yet in spite of
his excuses he was forced to the chair.

It was written! There was no escape! Father walked steadily to the
dry-goods box which served as a rostrum. As he passed Mr. Hathaway,
the good old man plucked him by the sleeve and begged him to serve out
platitudes to the crowd, and to screen his real sentiments.

But father was not a man that dealt in platitudes.

"Friends," said he, quietly, as he faced his audience and drew himself
to his full height,--"friends, you are mistaken in your man. I am sorry
to disappoint you. I have no wish to quarrel with you. But you
have forced me to speak, and I can do no less than declare my real
convictions. I am, and always have been, opposed to slavery. It is
an institution that not only degrades the slave, but brutalizes
the slave-holder, and I pledge you my word that I shall use my best
endeavors--yes, that I shall lay down my life, if need be--to keep this
curse from finding lodgment upon Kansas soil. It is enough that the
fairest portions of our land are already infected with this blight.
May it spread no farther. All my energy and my ability shall swell the