n, and, in a
peculiarly quiet way, addressing me, Mr. Taber said: "Thee get in." I
never obeyed an order with more alacrity, and we were soon on our way to
our new home. When we reached "Stone Bridge" the passengers alighted for
breakfast, and paid their fares to the driver. We took no breakfast,
and, when asked for our fares, I told the driver I would make it right
with him when we reached New Bedford. I expected some objection to this
on his part, but he made none. When, however, we reached New Bedford, he
took our baggage, including three music-books,--two of them collections
by Dyer, and one by Shaw,--and held them until I was able to redeem them
by paying to him the amount due for our rides. This was soon done, for
Mr. Nathan Johnson not only received me kindly and hospitably, but, on
being informed about our baggage, at once loaned me the two dollars with
which to square accounts with the stage-driver. Mr. and Mrs. Nathan
Johnson reached a good old age, and now rest from their labors. I am
under many grateful obligations to them. They not only "took me in when
a stranger" and "fed me when hungry," but taught me how to make an honest
living. Thus, in a fortnight after my flight from Maryland, I was safe
in New Bedford, a citizen of the grand old commonwealth of Massachusetts.

Once initiated into my new life of freedom and assured by Mr. Johnson
that I need not fear recapture in that city, a comparatively unimportant
question arose as to the name by which I should be known thereafter in my
new relation as a free man. The name given me by my dear mother was no
less pretentious and long than Frederick Augustus Washington Bailey. I
had, however, while living in Maryland, dispensed with the Augustus
Washington, and retained only Frederick Bailey. Between Baltimore and
New Bedford, the better to conceal myself from the slave-hunters, I had
parted with Bailey and called myself Johnson; but in New Bedford I found
that the Johnson family was already so numerous as to cause some
confusion in distinguishing them, hence a change in this name seemed
desirable. Nathan Johnson, mine host, placed great emphasis upon this
necessity, and wished me to allow him to select a name for me. I
consented, and he called me by my present name--the one by which I have
been known for three and forty years--Frederick Douglass. Mr. Johnson
had just been reading the "Lady of the Lake," and so pleased was he with
its great character