nd
enabling us to pass on unmolested. After he left, Capt. Guyan, of Raleigh,
performed the same kind office as far as Alexandria, D.C., and then he
placed us in the care of a citizen of Philadelphia, whose name I regret to
have forgotten, who protected us quite out of the land of slavery. But
for this we should have been liable to be detained at several places on
our way, much to our embarrassment, at least, if nothing had occurred of a
more serious nature.

One accident only had happened: we lost at Washington a trunk containing
most of our valuable clothing. This we have, not recovered; but our lives
have been spared to bless the day that conferred freedom upon us. I felt
when my feet struck the pavements in Philadelphia, as though I had passed
into another world. I could draw in a full long breath, with no one to say
to the ribs, "why do ye so?"

On reaching Philadelphia we found that our money had all been expended,
but kind friends furnished us with the means of proceeding as far as
New-York; and thence we were with equal kindness aided on to Boston.

In Boston and in the vicinity, are persons almost without number, who have
done me favors more than I can express. The thought that I was now in my
new, though recently acquired home--that my family were with me where the
stern, cruel, hated hand of slavery could never reach us more--the
greetings of friends--the interchange of feeling and sympathy--the
kindness bestowed upon us, more grateful than rain to the thirsty
earth,--the reflections of the past that would rush into my mind,--these
and more almost overwhelmed me with emotion, and I had deep and strange
communion with my own soul. Next to God from whom every good gift
proceeds, I feel under the greatest obligations to my kind friends in
Massachusetts. To be rocked in their cradle of Liberty,--Oh, how unlike
being stretched on the pillory of slavery! May that cradle rock forever;
may many a poor care-worn child of sorrow, many a spirit-bruised (worse
than lash-mangled) victim of oppression, there sweetly sleep to the
lullaby of Freedom, sung by Massachusetts sons and daughters.

A number of meetings have been held at which friends have contributed to
our temporal wants, and individuals have sent us various articles of
provision and furniture and apparel, so that our souls have been truly
made glad. There are now ten of us in the family, my wife, my mother, and
myself, with seven children, and we expect soon