ld me the
circumstances of this attempt, and how narrowly he escaped being sent
back to slavery and torture. He told me that New York was then full
of Southerners returning from the Northern watering-places; that the
colored people of New York were not to be trusted; that there were hired
men of my own color who would betray me for a few dollars; that there
were hired men ever on the lookout for fugitives; that I must trust
no man with my secret; that I must not think of going either upon the
wharves or into any colored boarding-house, for all such places were
closely watched; that he was himself unable to help me; and, in fact, he
seemed while speaking to me to fear lest I myself might be a spy and
a betrayer. Under this apprehension, as I suppose, he showed signs of
wishing to be rid of me, and with whitewash brush in hand, in search of
work, he soon disappeared.

This picture, given by poor "Jake," of New York, was a damper to my
enthusiasm. My little store of money would soon be exhausted, and since
it would be unsafe for me to go on the wharves for work, and I had no
introductions elsewhere, the prospect for me was far from cheerful. I
saw the wisdom of keeping away from the ship-yards, for, if pursued, as
I felt certain I should be, Mr. Auld, my "master," would naturally seek
me there among the calkers. Every door seemed closed against me. I was
in the midst of an ocean of my fellow-men, and yet a perfect stranger
to every one. I was without home, without acquaintance, without money,
without credit, without work, and without any definite knowledge as to
what course to take, or where to look for succor. In such an extremity,
a man had something besides his new-born freedom to think of. While
wandering about the streets of New York, and lodging at least one
night among the barrels on one of the wharves, I was indeed free--from
slavery, but free from food and shelter as well. I kept my secret to
myself as long as I could, but I was compelled at last to seek some
one who would befriend me without taking advantage of my destitution
to betray me. Such a person I found in a sailor named Stuart, a
warm-hearted and generous fellow, who, from his humble home on Centre
street, saw me standing on the opposite sidewalk, near the Tombs prison.
As he approached me, I ventured a remark to him which at once enlisted
his interest in me. He took me to his home to spend the night, and in
the morning went with me to Mr. David Ruggles,