This refusal was greatly reprobated, and much regretted, as the curiosity to hear the discussion was very general, and no other edifice offered so much accommodation.
A Methodist meeting-house, large enough to contain a thousand persons, was at last chosen; a small stage was arranged round the pulpit, large enough to accommodate the disputants and their stenographers; the pulpit itself was throughout the whole time occupied by the aged father of Mr.Campbell, whose flowing white hair, and venerable countenance, constantly expressive of the deepest attention, and the most profound interest, made him a very striking figure in the group.

Another platform was raised in a conspicuous part of the building, on which were seated seven gentlemen of the city, selected as moderators.
The chapel was equally divided, one half being appropriated to ladies, the other to gentlemen; and the door of entrance reserved for the ladies was carefully guarded by persons appointed to prevent any crowding or difficulty from impeding their approach.
I suspect that the ladies were indebted to Mr.Owen for this attention; the arrangements respecting them on this occasion were by no means American.
When Mr.Owen rose, the building was thronged in every part; the audience, or congregation, (I hardly know which to call them) were of the highest rank of citizens, and as large a proportion of best bonnets fluttered there, as the "two horned church" itself could boast.
It was in the profoundest silence, and apparently with the deepest attention, that Mr.Owen's opening address was received; and surely it was the most singular one that ever Christian men and women sat to listen to.
When I recollect its object, and the uncompromising manner in which the orator stated his mature conviction that the whole history of the Christian mission was a fraud, and its sacred origin a fable, I cannot but wonder that it was so listened to; yet at the time I felt no such wonder.

Never did any one practise the _suaviter in modo_ with more powerful effect than Mr.Owen.

The gentle tone of his voice; his mild, sometimes playful, but never ironical manner; the absence of every vehement or harsh expression; the affectionate interest expressed for "the whole human family," the air of candour with which he expressed his wish to be convinced he was wrong, if he indeed were so--his kind smile--the mild expression of his eyes--in short, his whole manner, disarmed zeal, and produced a degree of tolerance that those who did not hear him would hardly believe possible.
Half an hour was the time allotted for each haranguer; when this was expired, the moderators were seen to look at their watches.
Mr.Owen, too, looked at his (without pausing) smiled, shook his head, and said in a parenthesis "a moment's patience," and continued for nearly another half hour.
Mr.Campbell then arose; his person, voice, and manner all greatly in his favour.

In his first attack he used the arms, which in general have been considered as belonging to the other side of the question.