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much the same, whether in tarpaulin or broadcloth. Nevertheless, when gentlemen approach us in the character of lawless and abandoned loafers - assuming for the moment their manners and tempers - they have themselves to blame if they are esteemed below their quality.

No right was deemed by the fathers of the Government more sacred than the right of speech. It was in their eyes, as in the eyes of all thoughtful men, the great moral renovator of society and government. Daniel Webster called it a home-bred right - a fireside privilege. Liberty is meaningless where the right to utter one's thoughts and opinions has ceased to exist. That, of all rights, is the dread of tyrants. It is the right which they first of all strike down. They know its power. - Thrones, dominions, principalities and powers, founded in injustice and wrong, are sure to tremble if men are allowed to reason of righteousness, temperance, and of a judgment to come in their presence. Slavery cannot tolerate free speech. Five years of its exercise would banish the auction-block and break every chain in the South. They will have none of it there, for they have the power. - But shall it be so here?

'Shall tongues be mute,' &c.

Even here in Boston, and among the friends of freedom, we hear two voices - one denouncing the mob that broke up our meeting on Monday as a base and cowardly outrage - and another, deprecating and regretting the holding of such a meeting, by such men, at such a time! We are told that the meeting was ill-timed, and the parties to it unwise.

Why, what is the matter with us? Are we going to palliate and excuse a palpable and flagrant outrage on the right of speech - by implying that only a particular description of persons should exercise that right? - Are we, at such a time, when a great principle has been struck down, to quench the moral indignation which the deed excites, by casting reflections upon those in whose persons the outrage has been committed? - After all the arguments for liberty to which Boston has listened for more than a quarter of a century, has she yet to learn, that the time to assert a right is the time when the right itself is called in question - and that the men of all others to assert it, are the men to whom the right has been denied?

It would be no vindication of the right of speech to prove that certain gentlemen of great distinction, eminent for their learning and ability, are allowed to freely express their opinions on all subjects - including the subject of slavery. Such a vindication would need itself to be vindicated. It would add insult to injury. Not even an old fashion abolition meeting could vindicate that right in Boston just now. There can be no right of speech where any man, however lifted up or old, is overawed by force, and compelled to suppress his honest sentiments.

Equally clear is the right to hear. To suppress free speech is a double wrong. It violates the rights of the hearer as well as those of the speaker. It is just as criminal to rob a man of his right to speak and here, as it would be to rob him of his money. I have no doubt that Boston will vindicate this right. But in order to do so, there must be no concessions to the enemy. When a man is allowed to speak because he is rich and powerful, it aggravates the crime of denying the right to the poor and humble.

The principle must rest upon its own proper basis. And until the right is accorded to the humblest as freely as to the most exalted citizen, the Government of Boston is but an empty name, and its freedom a mockery. A man's right to speak does not depend upon where he was born or upon his color. - The simple quality of manhood is the solid basis of the right - and there let it rest forever.
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Boston, Dec. 16, 1860.

Wendell Phillips's first appearance since the John Brown meeting, at the Music Hall, was

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made the occasion for a new and violent demonstration on the part of his enemies. It was his regular day for addressing the Society, the third Sunday of the month, but the understanding that he would speak in denunciation of the recent riot and rioters at the Tremont Temple had produced beforehand an unusual excitement. The proprietors of Music Hall demanded and obtained a bond for $50,000, to secure them against any possible loss by destruction of furniture, before they consented to open the building. The Hall was overwhelmingly crowded, and hundreds vainly sought admission.

Mr. Phillips's address was a bitter onslaught upon all the disturbers of the Tremont Temple Convention, and their outside abettors, and he had not proceeded far, before angry hisses from the galleries showed that a considerable element of opposition was present. The first demonstration was caused by his declaring, of the juvenile respectable rioters, that they went to the Temple to prove themselves rotten before they were ripe. A chirping, youthful chorus of defiance followed this, with a few cries of 'All up,' and other party watchwords. There were subsequently several maturer explosions of impotent wrath, to which Mr. Phillips gave no heed, repeating each phrase that was interrupted, with fresh emphasis, until quietly listened to.

The number of disturbers was so comparatively small that timidity conquered bad temper, and all the attempted tumults fell stillborn. Hisses and jeering laughs, and applause when none was expected, were, however, frequently repeated. All noisy demonstrations proceeded from the opponents of Mr. Phillips. The congregation generally kept perfect silence, in compliance with his special request at the outset.

The assemblage was well sprinkled with policemen, prepared to resist any violent interruption, and a large reserve force was kept out of sight for further precaution. A part of the military was held in readiness. After the services had ended, the crowd poured rapidly out, and loitered in the passage leading to Winter street and upon the sidewalks. Mr. Phillips came among the last. As soon as he was discovered in the doorway, a rush was made toward him, and for a few minutes there was a scene of as wild confusion as that of the Tremont Temple riot.

The narrowness of the passage prevented any successful attempt to seize Mr. Phillips, who, surrounded by his friends, pushed slowly forward, striving to reach the street. It is impossible to say whether he realized the danger of his situation any more than on the night of his walk home from Mr. Martin's church, but his countenance certainly betrayed greater indignation. The affair seemed rather more serious, for here the mob was much larger, and it was generally proclaimed - how truthfully I cannot tell - that numbers were armed, and that, if Mr. Phillips could once be seized, the weapons would no longer be concealed. The struggle was severe, but the space was possible, and no injuries were suffered by anybody.

The police presently appeared, directed by Deputy Chief Ham, and made quick work with the mob. Mr. Phillips was then enabled to reach Winter street, where a new attack was assayed, but was prevented by the police. Force failing, the crowd took to groaning and hissing. Mr. Phillips was escorted home through Washington and Essex streets, by about one hundred policemen. The route was enlivened by ingenious varieties of mob-music. The crowd that followed numbered upward of 1,000.

In front of Mr. Phillips's house another mob was found collected, through which the police cleared the way, affording him safe passage to his door. His disappearance was followed by hooting from his enemies, and a few cheers from his friends. Deputy Chief Ham then mounted Mr. Phillips's steps, and recommended the crowd to disperse, and finding them disposed to linger, quietly ordered the street to be cleared, which was done in

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less than five minutes, the rapidity and ease of the operation showing with what little difficulty order might have been maintained at the Tremont Temple. And thus ended the second Union-plastering demonstration of the solid men of Boston.

IRA ALDRIDGE IN SCOTLAND. - Our readers will be pleased to learn that our old friend Ira Aldridge is now meeting with decided success in Scotland. We copy the following from the Glasgow ]Daily Bulletin of Nov. 5th: 

The Theatre-Royal was re-opened on Saturday night, when 'Othello' was produced, Mr. Ira Aldridge, the African Roscius, taking the part of the Moor. We have had of late more than one proof of the intellectual excellence of the negro. We have had among us Dr. Delany, giving us the result of his explorations, and year by year the colored race are filling positions of honor in our church courts, and on our platforms. Now a negro comes as a 'star,' and any one who saw his 'Othello,' on Saturday night, will not grudge him the distinctive appellation. It was a most intelligent, appreciative specimen of acting, and such as we have rarely seen beaten below Macready. Of course, he 'looked' the character, and, as a matter of fact, played it well, such as won for him the warmest applause and a 'call.' It is really refreshing to see the black man thus championed; to witness a man who would be put into a 'negro pew' in an American church prove high mental superiority by the brilliant success with which he renders Shakespeare. We are aware that Mr. Aldridge is in some respects a distinguished man; the more honor to him that he is in Britain disproving the trans-Atlantic theory of caste! Pity he cannot do so in New Orleans or even in New York! We shall be glad to see him in other characters, and can forgive much, if required, for the excellence of his 'Othello.'

On the occasion of his farewell appearance, Mr. Aldridge delivered an address, from which we make the following extract: 

Son of the land whose swarthy race, late known
For nought but bloodshed and the murderous groan;
Mark'd by the God of Havoc and of strife
To raise the war-whoop, wield the murderous knife,
To roam unfettered, void of reason's light - 
Lone tribe of mankind in chaotic night.
Borne on the billows of the trackless sea, 
From genial climes came learning's purity.
Bright as the sunflake bursting from the deep - 
Severing the bonds of nature wrapt in sleep - 
Shone the mild beam to illuminate the mind
Of him, the savage - still, of human kind;
To mould the soul of Nature's hallowed sway - 
To drive the clouds of darkness far away - 
To array in robes of friendship, pure and bright,
The fellow brotherhood of Day and Night.
Link'd with the sister arts, the Drama's pile,
Its beauteous structure towered within our isle;
Yet still they bloom'd in night and noontide hour.
'Twas wandering in those bowers of classic bloom,
The Drama's radiance did my heart illume;
Enraptured, from the hallowed bower I seized
A blossom that my youthful fancy pleased,
And, wonderful to tell, I straight became
A wandering son, fired with ambitious flame.
Though Nature to my aspect has denied
The rose and lily which in you're allied,
'Child of the Sun,' with brow of ebon hue,
I stand before you, but with soul as true; [applause;]
For in this favored land, where'er I roam,
To me has ever ope'd the stranger's home;
From you I've caught that warm and kindly ray
That cheer'd me onwards in this world's lone way.
If to my native shores I do return,
Within my heart's fane ever shall your kindness burn
O'er my lone grave, perhaps in desert spot, 
Shall wave the lotus, but 'forget you not.'
More I could say, but what would it avail - 
To you I've told my true, my heartfelt tale.
The moment's come, and severed is the spell - 
Scotia's kind children, Hail, and Fare you well.
[Prolonged cheering, during which Mr. Aldridge retired.]

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