"The meeting broke up about 10 o'clock, and we all got safely home. The next day the street was thronged with profane ruffians and curious spectators--the women, however, holding their meetings in the hall all day, till towards evening. It was given out by the mob that the hall would be burnt to the ground that night. We were to have a meeting in the evening, but it was impossible to execute our purpose. The mayor induced the manager to give the keys of the building into his hands. He then locked the doors, and made a brief speech to the mob, assuring them that he had the keys, and that there would be no meeting, and requesting them to retire. He then went home, but the mob were bent on the destruction of the hall. They had now increased to several thousands, and soon got into the hall by dashing open the doors with their axes. They then set fire to this huge building, and in the course of an hour it was a solid mass of flame. The bells of the city were rung, and several engines rallied; but no water was permitted to be thrown upon the building. The light of the fire must have been seen a great distance." At midnight Garrison was spirited out of the city, and conveyed in a covered carriage by a friend to Bristol, about twenty miles, where in the morning he took the steamboat for Boston. The light of that fire was visible a great distance in more senses than one. The burning of Pennsylvania Hall proved a public enlightener. After that occurrence the gentlemen of property scattered through the free States devoted themselves less to the violent suppression of Abolitionism and more to the forcible suppression, upon occasion, of the alarming manifestations of popular lawlessness, which found significant demonstration just a week later in the city of Boston.