esides a dubious
written passport. This something was his desperate courage. He had
learned to act the part of a freeman so well that no one suspected him
of being a slave. He had early acquired the habit of studying human
nature. As he grew to understand men, he no longer dreaded them. No
one knew better than he the kind of human nature that he had to deal
with in this perilous undertaking. He knew the speech, manner, and
behavior that would excite suspicion; hence he avoided asking for a
ticket at the railway station, because this would subject him to
examination. He so managed that just as the train started he jumped
on, his bag being thrown after him by some one in waiting. He knew
that scrutiny of him in a crowded car en route would be less exacting
than at the station. He had borrowed a sailor's shirt, tarpaulin, cap,
and black cravat, tied in true sailor fashion, and he acted the part of
an "old salt" so perfectly that he excited no suspicion. When the
conductor came to collect his fare and inspected his "free papers,"
Douglass, in the most natural manner, said that he had none, but
promptly showed his "sailor's protection," which the railway official
merely glanced at and passed on without further question. Twice on the
trip he thought he was detected. Once when his car stood opposite a
south-bound train, Douglass observed a well-known citizen of Baltimore,
who knew him well, sitting where he could see him distinctly. At
another time, while still in Maryland, he was noticed by a man who had
met him frequently at the shipyards. In neither of these cases,
however, was he interfered with or molested. When he got into the free
State of Pennsylvania, he felt more joy than he dared express. He had
by his cool temerity and address passed every sentinel undetected, and
no slave, to his knowledge, he afterward said, ever got away from
bondage on so narrow a margin of safety.

HENRY WARD BEECHER

(1813-1887)

THE BOY WHO HALF-HEARTEDLY JOINED THE CHURCH

There is great encouragement for the seemingly backward, hesitant youth
in the story of Henry Ward Beecher's early life.

He tells us that he used to be laughed at for talking as though he had
pudding in his mouth. Yet he became one of the greatest orators the
world has seen.

He joined the church merely because he was expected to do so. It was
only "pride and shamefacedness" that prevented him from expressing his
doubts as to whether he wa