“Among all the noble men in Massachusetts who early came to the support of William Lloyd Garrison, in his war upon slavery, none came from a higher social plane, or parted with brighter prospects, or brought to the cause more brilliant abilities than did Wendell Phillips. He might have been congressman, governor, senator of the United States, and, possibly, have risen higher still, had he allied himself to either of the great political parties. In the Senate, had he reached that body, he would have ranked with Sumner and Conkling as an orator, and with Fessenden, Grimes, Douglas, and O. P. Morton as a debater.” Eloquent as he was as a lecturer, he was far more effective as a debater. Debate was for him the flint and steel which brought out all his fire. The memory of Mr. Phillips was something wonderful. He would listen to an elaborate speech for hours, and, without a single note of what had been said, in writing, reply to every part of it as fully and completely as if the speech were written out before him. Those who heard him only on the platform, and when not confronted by an opponent, have a very limited comprehension of his wonderful resources as a speaker. In his style as a debater he resembled Sir Robert Peel, in grace and courtliness of manner and in fluency and copiousness of diction. He never hesitated for a word, or failed to employ the word best fitted to express his thought on the point under discussion. The great agitator’s tact was only equalled by the serene humor and pleasant wit that he exhibited. An old friend has recently told me of Mr. Phillips questioning him as to the highest grade he had won in the Union army on the occasion of his going to the Federal capital just after muster-out, as a special correspondent. Mr. Phillips, knowing the young man’s radical views, had given him several letters of introduction and was writing one to Senator Sumner when he asked this question, remarking with a gentle laugh: “Yes, a title has its value with my friend Charles.” His unvarying urbanity was in conspicuous contrast with the Senator’s sometimes unpleasant surliness. Mr. Phillips was decidedly old-fashioned in many of his ways. When at home, for example, he did his own marketing, and he knew how to buy. His chief purchases, however, were always in the way of dainties for his invalid wife. His own table habits were of the simplest. He was quite apt to answer his own door bell. On the entrance to that quiet Boston house there was no door-plate--only the name painted in large black letters-- =PHILLIPS.= I called on him one morning at his house. He answered the bell himself. I remarked: “Mr. Phillips, you have a very conspicuous sign on your door.” He told me that as the door-plate had been torn off by vandals he had decided to have his name painted on the door so conspicuously that any one who wished to find his house could easily distinguish the name.