During the winter of 1857, whilst I was secretary of the state senate, I enjoyed the pleasure of hearing Wendell Phillips deliver his lecture upon the "Lost Arts." At the close of his lecture Hon. J. B. Grinnell, then a member of the state senate from Poweshiek county, rose in the audience and requested Mr. Phillips to give us his views upon the subject of slavery, and especially called his attention to the fact that Mr. Phillips had been represented by the public press as favoring a dissolution of the American Union. Mr. Phillips courteously complied with the request, and proceeded to say that when the constitution of the United States was formed it contained within its provisions, as he believed, the germ of human liberty. That the declaration of American independence had declared that all men were entitled to the inalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. He said that he was in favor of the development of this germ to its fullest extent; that the constitution of the United States might be compared to a box in which was planted an acorn; the acorn would grow in the very nature of things and become an oak, but whether or not the box in which the acorn was planted was sufficient to contain the development and growing germ, he could not say. He was not concerned in regard to the safety of the box, but he was anxious that the germ should develop and that the tree should grow. That whether or not the constitution of the United States could survive the development and growth of this germ of human liberty that had been planted therein, he could not say, and upon that question he did not feel any very great anxiety; all he had to say in regard to the matter was that he was in favor of the growth of the germ, and he believed that the acorn would grow and ought to grow. Wendell Phillips was one of the most eloquent and graceful public speakers it was ever my privilege to listen to. I had expected from his reputation as a reformer and abolitionist to hear a man with loud voice and vehement gesticulation, but instead he proved to be mild, quiet, self-possessed, delivering his utterances in the clearest, mildest, and most persuasive tones, commanding the respect of his audience and almost fascinating them with his words. During the same session I also had the pleasure of hearing at Davenport, Iowa, a lecture from Horace Greeley, the great editor of the New York _Tribune_. I was greatly disappointed in Mr. Greeley's lecture. As a writer I knew him to be the clearest and most incisive in his utterances. His manner on the platform and his speech were those of a drony, sing-song, intonating Episcopal minister, devoid of life and spirit.