Soon after Mr. Garrison’s assault upon the institution of American slavery began to be felt, (and that was almost as soon as it began,) a Southern governor wrote to the mayor of Boston, demanding to know what was to be expected, what to be feared, from this attack upon “the peculiar institution of the South.” In due time the gentleman who was then the high official addressed replied to his Southern excellency, that there was no occasion for uneasiness. “He had made diligent search for the would-be ‘Liberator.’ The city officers had ferreted out the paper and its editor. His office was an obscure hole, his only visible auxiliary a negro boy, and his supporters a few very insignificant persons of all colors.” Undoubtedly to that dainty gentleman the rise of the antislavery enterprise in our country did seem insignificant,--quite as insignificant as the little spring of water in the garden at Baden. He may never have learnt among his nursery rhymes, that “Large streams from little fountains flow, Tall oaks from little acorns grow,” and he must have forgotten that Christianity began in a stable,--“that not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble were called. But that God chose the _foolish_ things of the world to confound the wise, and the _weak_ things of the world to confound the things which are mighty.” Our poet, Lowell, estimated, more justly “the would-be Liberator,” his office and his humble assistant. “In a small chamber, friendless and unseen, Toiled o’er his types one poor, unlearned young man; The place was dark, unfurnitured, and mean; Yet there _the freedom of a race_ began. “Help came but slowly; sure no man yet Put lever to the heavy world with less. What need of help? He knew how types to set; He had a dauntless spirit and a press. “Such dauntless natures are the fiery pith, The compact nucleus round which systems grow; Mass after mass becomes inspired therewith, And whirls impregnate with the central glow.”