It was at the anniversary meeting, however, that I was determined to discuss the subject, being assured, that, in the presence of a wakeful public, the will of one or two individuals could not control the course of the Society. Accordingly I took the floor and proceeded to speak, when I was strangely encountered by the Secretary, who ejaculated: "Mr. President, the annual meeting was interrupted in this manner last year; there are gentlemen present who are invited by the Committee of Arrangements to address us." On this remarkable fragment of a speech I made no comment at the time. I shall make none now; but I cannot forbear quoting the words of the able editor of the Law Reporter with regard to it. "It would seem," he says, "that the addresses at the public meetings of this Society are all cut and dried beforehand, made to order,--a fact that might as well have been kept back, under the circumstances, for the credit of all concerned."[177] Notwithstanding this interference, I proceeded to expose the prejudiced and partisan course of the Society, and its consequent loss of credit, concluding with a motion for a committee to consider its past conduct, and the best means of extending its usefulness. The motion, though opposed at the time, was adopted. It is the Report of that committee which is now before you. [177] Law Reporter, July, 1846, Vol. IX. p. 98. This Report, when offered to the Society, was first opposed on grounds of _form_. It is now opposed on other grounds, hardly more pertinent, though not of form only. Thus at every step have honest efforts to elevate the character of the Society, and to extend its usefulness, been encountered by opposition. Under the auspices of the Treasurer and Secretary, the Society shrinks from examination and inquiry. Like the sensitive leaf, it closes at the touch. Nay, more: it repels all endeavor to wake it to new life. It seems to have adopted, as its guardian motto, that remarkable epitaph which for more than two centuries has preserved from examination and intrusion the sacred remains of the greatest master of our tongue:-- "Good friend, for Jesus' sake, forbear To dig the dust enclosed here! Blest be the man that spares these stones, And curst be he that moves my bones!" The Boston Prison Discipline Society is not William Shakespeare; nor is it yet dead. But the maledictions of the epitaph have fallen upon those of us undertaking to "move its bones."