to be mentioned.
Of all that sisterhood, the most pugnacious undoubtedly was Abby Kelly
, a little New England
woman, with, as the name would indicate, an Irish crossing of the blood.
I heard her once, and it seemed to me that I never listened to a tongue that was so sharp and merciless.
Her eyes were small and it appeared to me that they contracted, when she was speaking, until they emitted sparks of fire.
Although she went by her maiden name, she was a married woman, being the wife of Stephen Foster
, a professional Abolitionist agitator and lecturer.
Although himself noted for the bitterness of his speech, when it came to hard-hitting vituperation he could not begin to “hold a candle” to his little wife.
The two traveled together and spoke from the same platforms.
They were constantly getting into hot water through the hostility of mobs, which they seemed to enjoy most heartily.
's life was more than once in serious danger, but they kept right on and never showed the slightest fear.
The only meeting addressed by them that I attended, though held on the Sabbath, was ended by the throwing of stones and sticks and addled eggs.
But if the current of public opinion in the North
suddenly turned, and for a long time ran with overwhelming force in favor of slavery, it changed about almost as suddenly and ran with equal force in the opposite direction.
The county in which I lived when a boy, that furnished only one vote for the first Abolitionist presidential ticket, became a Republican stronghold.
It was in what had been a Whig district, and when the Whig party went to