arper's Ferry
Raid.

Most of us can remember some event or incident which has at some time
come to us, and made itself a permanent part of our lives. Such an
incident came to me in the year 1847. I had then the honor of spending
a day and a night under the roof of a man, whose character and
conversation made a very deep impression on my mind and heart; and as
the circumstance does not lie entirely out of the range of our present
observations, you will pardon for a moment a seeming digression. The
name of the person alluded to had been several times mentioned to me,
in a tone that made me curious to see him and to make his
acquaintance. He was a merchant, and our first meeting was at his
store--a substantial brick building, giving evidence of a flourishing
business. After a few minutes' detention here, long enough for me to
observe the neatness and order of the place, I was conducted by him to
his residence where I was kindly received by his family as an expected
guest. I was a little disappointed at the appearance of this man's
house, for after seeing his fine store, I was prepared to see a fine
residence; but this logic was entirely contradicted by the facts. The
house was a small, wooden one, on a back street in a neighborhood of
laboring men and mechanics, respectable enough, but not just the spot
where one would expect to find the home of a successful merchant.
Plain as was the outside, the inside was plainer. Its furniture might
have pleased a Spartan. It would take longer to tell what was not in
it, than what was; no sofas, no cushions, no curtains, no carpets, no
easy rocking chairs inviting to enervation or rest or repose. My first
meal passed under the misnomer of tea. It was none of your tea and
toast sort, but potatoes and cabbage, and beef soup; such a meal as a
man might relish after following the plough all day, or after
performing a forced march of a dozen miles over rough ground in frosty
weather. Innocent of paint, veneering, varnish or tablecloth, the
table announced itself unmistakably and honestly pine and of the
plainest workmanship. No hired help passed from kitchen to dining
room, staring in amazement at the colored man at the white man's
table. The mother, daughters and sons did the serving, and did it
well. I heard no apology for doing their own work; they went through
it, as if used to it, untouched by any thought of degradation or
impropriety. Supper over, the boys helped to clear the table a