ut it for some
months to come."

* * * * *

The next week, Mr. and Mrs. King started for New York, and thence
proceeded to New Rochelle. Following the directions they had received,
they hired a carriage at the steamboat-landing, to convey them to a
farm-house a few miles distant. As they approached the designated
place, they saw a slender man, in drab-colored clothes, lowering a
bucket into the well. Mr. King alighted, and inquired, "Is this Mr.
Houseman's farm, sir?"

"My name is Joseph Houseman," replied the Quaker. "I am usually called
Friend Joseph."

Mr. King returned to the carriage, and saying, "This is the place,"
he assisted his lady to alight. Returning to the farmer, he said:
"We have come to ask you about a young colored woman, named Henriet
Falkner. Her husband rendered service to a dear young friend of ours
in the army, and we would be glad to repay the obligation by kindness
to her."

"Walk in," said the Quaker. He showed them into a neat, plainly
furnished parlor. "Where art thou from?" he inquired.

"From Boston," was the reply.

"What is thy name?"

"Mr. King."

"All men are called Mister," rejoined the Quaker. "What is thy given
name?"

"My name is Alfred Royal King; and this is my wife, Rosa King."

"Hast thou brought a letter from the woman's husband?" inquired Friend
Joseph.

"No," replied Mr. King. "I saw George Falkner in Washington, a
fortnight ago, when I went to seek the body of our young friend; but I
did not then think of coming here. If you doubt me, you can write
to William Lloyd Garrison or Wendell Phillips, and inquire of them
whether Alfred R. King is capable of deceiving."

"I like thy countenance, Friend Alfred, and I think thou art honest,"
rejoined the Quaker; "but where colored people are concerned, I have
known very polite and fair-spoken men to tell falsehoods."

Mr. King smiled as he answered: "I commend your caution, Friend
Joseph. I see how it is. You suspect we may be slaveholders in
disguise. But slaveholders are just now too busy seeking to destroy
this Republic to have any time to hunt fugitives; and when they have
more leisure, my opinion is they will find that occupation gone."

"I should have more hope of that," replied the farmer, "if there was
not so much pro-slavery here at the North. And thee knows that the
generals of the United States are continually sending back fugitive
slaves to bleed under the lash of their