An inflammatory handbill announced to his townsmen his arrival.

"The true American has returned, _alias_ William Lloyd Garrison, the 'Negro Champion,' from his disgraceful mission to the British metropolis," etc., etc., and wound up its artful list of lies with the malignant suggestion that "He is now in your power--do not let him escape you, but go this evening, armed with plenty of _tar and feathers_ and administer to him justice at his abode at No.

9 Merchant's Hall, Congress street." In obedience to this summons, a reception committee in the shape of "a dense mob, breathing threatenings which forboded a storm," did pay their respects to the "true American" in front of his abode at the _Liberator_ office.

Fortunately the storm passed over without breaking that evening on the devoted head of the "Negro Champion." But the meaning of the riotous demonstration it was impossible to miss.

Like the mob in New York it clearly indicated that the country was on the outer edge of an area of violent disturbances on the subject of slavery.
The peril which Garrison had twice escaped was indeed grave, but neither it nor the certainty of future persecution could flutter or depress his spirits.