them "I was free!" I wanted to see my
fellow slaves in St. Louis, and let them know that the chains were no
longer upon my limbs. I wanted to see Captain Price, and let him learn
from my own lips that I was no more a chattel, but a man! I was anxious,
too, thus to inform Mrs. Price that she must get another coachman. And I
wanted to see Eliza more than I did either Mr. or Mrs. Price!

The fact that I was a freeman--could walk, talk, eat and sleep as a
man, and no one to stand over me with the blood-clotted cowhide--all
this made me feel that I was not myself.

The kind friend that had taken me in was named Wells Brown. He was a
devoted friend of the slave; but was very old, and not in the enjoyment
of good health. After being by the fire awhile, I found that my feet had
been very much frozen. I was seized with a fever which threatened to
confine me to my bed. But my Thompsonian friends soon raised me,
treating me as kindly as if I had been one of their own children. I
remained with them twelve or fifteen days, during which time they made
me some clothing, and the old gentleman purchased me a pair of boots.

I found that I was about fifty or sixty miles from Dayton, in the State
of Ohio, and between one and two hundred miles from Cleaveland, on lake
Erie, a place I was desirous of reaching on my way to Canada. This I
know will sound strangely to the ears of people in foreign lands, but it
is nevertheless true. An American citizen was fleeing from a Democratic,
Republican, Christian government, to receive protection under the
monarchy of Great Britain. While the people of the United States boast
of their freedom, they at the same time keep three millions of their own
citizens in chains; and while I am seated here in sight of Bunker Hill
Monument, writing this narrative, I am a slave, and no law, not even in
Massachusetts, can protect me from the hands of the slaveholder!

Before leaving this good Quaker friend, he inquired what my name was
besides William. I told him that I had no other name. "Well," said he,
"thee must have another name. Since thee has got out of slavery, thee
has become a man, and men always have two names."

I told him that he was the first man to extend the hand of friendship to
me, and I would give him the privilege of naming me.

"If I name thee," said he, "I shall call thee Wells Brown, after
myself."

"But," said I, "I am not willing to lose my name of William. As it was
taken from me once