old
pro-slavery squire very gravely pronounced me to be the property of
Mr. Gatewood.

The office being crowded with spectators, many of whom were colored
persons, Mr. G. was afraid to keep me in Cincinnati, two or three
hours even, until a steamboat got ready to leave for the South. So
they took me across the river, and locked me up in Covington jail, for
safe keeping. This was the first time in my life that I had been put
into a jail. It was truly distressing to my feelings to be locked up
in a cold dungeon for no crime. The jailor not being at home, his wife
had to act in his place. After my owners had gone back to Cincinnati,
the jailor's wife, in company with another female, came into the jail
and talked with me very friendly.

I told them all about my situation, and these ladies said they hoped
that I might get away again, and went so far as to tell me if I should
be kept in the jail that night, there was a hole under the wall of the
jail where a prisoner had got out. It was only filled up with loose
dirt, they said, and I might scratch it out and clear myself.

This I thought was a kind word from an unexpected friend: I had power
to have taken the key from those ladies, in spite of them, and have
cleared myself; but knowing that they would have to suffer perhaps for
letting me get away, I thought I would wait until after dark, at which
time I should try to make my escape, if they should not take me out
before that time. But within two or three hours, they came after me,
and conducted me on board of a boat, on which we all took passage down
to Louisville. I was not confined in any way, but was well guarded by
five men, three of whom were slaveholders, and the two young men from
Cincinnati, who had betrayed me.

After the boat had got fairly under way, with these vile men standing
around me on the upper deck of the boat, and she under full speed
carrying me back into a land of torment, I could see no possible way
of escape. Yet, while I was permitted to gaze on the beauties of
nature, on free soil, as I passed down the river, things looked to me
uncommonly pleasant: The green trees and wild flowers of the forest;
the ripening harvest fields waving with the gentle breezes of Heaven;
and the honest farmers tilling their soil and living by their own
toil. These things seem to light upon my vision with a peculiar charm.
I was conscious of what must be my fate; a wretched victim for Slavery
without limit; to be so