tion. The other guests were sent for safety to the houses of other relatives, while the citizen of Pendleton to a man watched Dr. Fussell's house all night as the cry "Five dollars for Dr. Fussell!" had been started when they thought they had killed Frederick Douglass. That mob broke up the Fussells' western home. In November of that year they came east in time for Dr. Fussell to attend the first decade of the formation of the Anti-Slavery Society.

The hatreds of that hour have long passed by, and a number of those engaged in the mob have become good citizens. The person who nursed Frederick Douglass on that occasion was Elizabeth, wife of Neal Hardy. Recently, in her widowhood, this kind and motherly woman received an honored visitor, and the town which once drove him from her midst, and with him some of her best citizens, was not slow to recognize in this same orator, the favored official, Frederick Douglass, then United States Marshal for the District of Columbia. A later experience in Philadelphia with the popular hatred of the times, affected a most lovely and innocent girl just blooming into womanhood. With her friends she attended a meeting to listen to the eloquence of George William Curtis. Whilst there a shower of vitriol was thrown into the audience and it fell chiefly on her face and dress. She was so terribly burned that for weeks her face had to be excluded from the air wrapped up in wet cloths. This was Emma J., eldest daughter of Dr. Edwin and Rebecca L. Fussell. Through the care of her parents she came out of the ordeal unscarred and her bonnet, riddled with holes, was the only external memorial of the fiendish vengeance directed, not against

her personally, but towards the assembly of abolitionists of which she formed a part. This experience, no doubt, hastened the maturing of an earnest, deep, and thoughtful soul, such as looks out from the picture she has left behind her. In early life, this devoted girl offered her services as a teacher in the South.* In pity for her youth and in hope of the richness of her promise, J. Miller McKim very kindly, but firmly refused her. He explained to the writer that he did it because he could not endure to see such a martyr. There is no doubt that he was moved by a fatherly kindness which interfered to prevent a needless sacrifice, but the refusal was most painful to her; and to her friends, as the large tears dropped silently, she excused the author of her disappointment by saying he did not know her, nor how her heart was in it.

Soon after this, wounded men from our battles began to arrive in Philadelphia. At one time four hundred and fifty were sent to a hospital near the residence of Dr. Fussell. At midnight, with wine and cordials, father and daughter made their way to where their help was so imperatively needed. As the daughter of a physician, with the knowledge and skill which many willing nurses lacked, she was everywhere in request, and, forgetful of her own needs, she only remembered to supply as far as in her power, those of the suffering around her. It was not at the South, but amid her own kindred that she labored until nature would bear no more. Then she laid down in death, and the martyr soul rose beyond our vision, leaving an agonized memory of what she was and what she might have been. We do not

*At Beaufort, S. C.

question was it wise or well. We only state that it was, and that such were the spirits nurtured by the opposition to slavery. Young persons through an illimitable condemnation of an illimitable wrong, rose to the height of their power for time, or else they passed to eternity, and God knows which was best. We only know that the silent dead sometimes influence us more than the living. Children yet unborn may be lifted to a higher plane by spiritual kinship with Emma J. Fussell, aged 23.