of Chicago, that his friends advised him not to return, fearing that
he would be assaulted.[503] But fear was a sensation that he had never
experienced. He went to Chicago confident that he could silence
opposition as he had done four years before.[504]

Three or four days after his return, he announced that on the night of
September 1st, he would address his constituents in front of North
Market Hall. The announcement occasioned great excitement. The
opposition press cautioned their readers not to be deceived by his
sophistries, and hinted broadly at the advisability of breaking up the
meeting.[505] Many friends of Douglas believed that personal violence
was threatened. During the afternoon flags were hung at half mast on
the lake boats; bells were tolled, as the crowds began to gather in
the dusk of the evening; some public calamity seemed to impend. At a
quarter past eight, Douglas began to address the people. He was
greeted with hisses. He paused until these had subsided. But no sooner
did he begin again than bedlam broke loose. For over two hours he
wrestled with the mob, appealing to their sense of fairness; but he
could not gain a hearing. Finally, for the first time in his career,
he was forced to admit defeat. Drawing his watch from his pocket and
observing that the hour was late, he shouted, in an interval of
comparative quiet, "It is now Sunday morning--I'll go to church, and
you may go to Hell!" At the imminent risk of his life, he went to his
carriage and was driven through the crowds to his hotel.[506]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 415: House Bill No. 444; 28 Cong., 2 Sess.]