assed, turned, and looked after us as far as
they could see. Had we been carrying destruction to all human kind, they
could not have acted more absurdly. We went to a friend's house and
stayed for the rest of the day, and until nine o'clock that night, when
we set out for Canada.

The great trial now was to leave my wife and family. Uncertain as to the
result of the journey, I felt I would rather die than be separated from
them. It had to be done, however; and we went forth with heavy hearts,
outcasts for the sake of liberty. When we had walked as far as
Christiana, we saw a large crowd, late as it was, to some of whom, at
least, I must have been known, as we heard distinctly, "A'n't that
Parker?"

"Yes," was answered, "that's Parker."

Kline was called for, and he, with some nine or ten more, followed
after. We stopped, and then they stopped. One said to his comrades, "Go
on,--that's him." And another replied, "You go." So they contended for a
time who should come to us. At last they went back. I was sorry to see
them go back, for I wanted to meet Kline and end the day's transactions.

We went on unmolested to Penningtonville; and, in consequence of the
excitement, thought best to continue on to Parkersburg. Nothing worth
mention occurred for a time. We proceeded to Downingtown, and thence six
miles beyond, to the house of a friend. We stopped with him on Saturday
night, and on the evening of the 14th went fifteen miles farther. Here I
learned from a preacher, directly from the city, that the excitement in
Philadelphia was too great for us to risk our safety by going there.
Another man present advised us to go to Norristown.

At Norristown we rested a day. The friends gave us ten dollars, and sent
us in a vehicle to Quakertown. Our driver, being partly intoxicated, set
us down at the wrong place, which obliged us to stay out all night. At
eleven o'clock the next day we got to Quakertown. We had gone about six
miles out of the way, and had to go directly across the country. We
rested the 16th, and set out in the evening for Friendsville.

A friend piloted us some distance, and we travelled until we became very
tired, when we went to bed under a haystack. On the 17th, we took
breakfast at an inn. We passed a small village, and asked a man whom we
met with a dearborn, what would be his charge to Windgap. "One dollar
and fifty cents," was the ready answer. So in we got, and rode to that
place.

As we wanted to make