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Since the transmission of my last letter, I have been journeying from place to place, rather for the purpose of defeating the designs of my enemies, than from choice. I expected to have sailed in the packet of the 24th ult., but applied too late, as every berth had been previously engaged. I do not now regret the detention, as it enabled the artist at New Haven to complete my portrait; and I think he has succeeded in making a very tolerable likeness. To be sure, those who imagine that I am a monster, on seeing it will doubt or deny its accuracy, seeing no horns about the head; but my friends, I think, will recognize it easily. . . .

Last evening I had a large audience of colored persons in1 the Methodist African Church in New York, who came to hear my farewell address. Alas, that the value of my labors in their behalf bears so small a proportion to their unbounded gratitude and love!—Mr. Finley, the General Agent of the Colonization Society, was present, and witnessed a tremendous assault upon his darling scheme.

The pursuit was not given over till the last moment. ‘About two and a half hours after friend Garrison went on board the ship,’ reports Arnold Buffum, who2 had gone to New York to see him off, ‘inquiry was made for him by a lad from a lawyer's office, from which we conclude that the distinguished gentlemen of Canterbury were in pursuit of him; but they happened to be a little too late.’3 Before the winds themselves abandoned their opposition, Mr. Garrison addressed a farewell letter to William Goodell, for publication in his Moral Daily Advertiser, embracing ‘a few poetical lines4 which have been composed in great haste,’—a sonnet, namely, beginning

Unto the winds and waves I now commit
     My body, subject to the will of Heaven,

—and the testamentary injunction: ‘The grand object ’

1 April 30.

2 Lib. 3.75.

3 ‘Prior to sailing from New York, I was watched and hunted, day after day, in that city, in order that the writ might be served upon me; but my old friend, Arthur Tappan, took me into an upper chamber in the house of a friend, where I was safely kept, under lock and key, until the vessel sailed which conveyed me to England’ (Speech of W. L. G., at the 20th anniversary of the Boston Mob, p. 11; also, Lib. 25.173).

4 Lib. 3.75.

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