his own convictions, and his courage in airing them in public, had won
the respect of the Quaker enthusiast, Lundy, and the old man walked all
the way from Baltimore to Bedford to ask Garrison to join him in his
work of agitation. A year later the two men, one old and discouraged,
the other young and hopeful, both being practically penniless,--started
work in Baltimore. Troubles came thick and fast. The slave dealer who
had beaten Lundy now attacked young Garrison. Carelessly worded
criticisms of a Northern slave dealer from Garrison's own town of
Newburyport led to a suit for libel, and a fine of fifty dollars;
neither man could raise the money to pay the fine, and Garrison went to
jail for forty-nine days. But the youth was full of courage and faith,
and in 1831 we find him once more in Boston, starting a new paper, that
was, if possible, more radical than ever.

In this second venture he was alone, his office was a garret, his only
helper a negro boy whom he had freed. His paper was called the
_Liberator_, and the first edition appeared in January, 1831. Garrison
registered his sublime vow in his opening editorial: "I will be as harsh
as truth and as uncompromising as justice.... I am in earnest,--I will
not equivocate,--I will not excuse,--I will not retract a single
inch,--and I will be heard." His battle cry was "Immediate,
unconditional emancipation on the soil."

No movement that wrought so great a national convulsion ever had a more
feeble origin. The Revolutionary fathers had three million colonists as
supporters. The leaders of the Home Rule movement had four millions of
Irishmen to back them. Cobden and Bright were supported and cheered on
by the manufacturers of Central England. But young Garrison stood alone,
with empty hands, a slave boy to support, a hand-press printing a sheet
twelve inches square, never knowing where the money for the next edition