dat was de same Lor', an' He come down dar to help me, I
rode along jus' as quiet as little Pompey dar, an' neber feared no
moon."

When he reached the Pennsylvania border he turned back the horse, and
proceeded on his way through a land where as yet there was no
Fugitive-Slave Law, and those who sought to obstruct the progress of the
negro-hunter were, as they ever have been, many.

* * * * *

After that I got by accident into a Northern school with Southern
_principals_.

AEsthetically it was a good school. We wore kid gloves when we went to
meeting, and sat in a gallery like a sort of steamer over the boiler, in
which deacons and other large good people were stewing, through long,
hot Sunday afternoons. If we went to sleep, or ate cloves not to go to
sleep, we were punched in the back with a real gold-headed cane. The
cane we felt proud of, because it had been presented by the boys, and it
was a perpetual compliment to us to see that cane go down the street
with our principal after it; but nothing could have exceeded our
mortification at being punched with it in full sight of the
girls'-school gallery opposite, we having our kid gloves on at the time,
and in some instances coats with tails, like men.

When I say "Southern" principals, I do not mean to indicate their
nativity; for I suppose no Southerner ever taught a Northerner anything
until Bull Run, when the lesson was, not to despise one's enemy, but to
beat him. Nor do I intend to call them pro-slavery men in the obnoxious
sense. Like many good men of the day, they depended largely on Southern
patronage, and opposed all discussion of what they called "political
differences." At that day, in most famous schools, "Liberty" used to be
cut out of a boy's composition, if it meant anything more than an
exhibition-day splurge with reference to the eagle and the banner in the
immediate context.

Among the large crowd of young Southerners sent to this school, I began
preaching emancipation in my pinafore. Mounted upon a window-seat in an
alcove of the great play-hall, I passed recess after recess in
haranguing a multitude upon the subject of Freedom, with as little
success as most apostles, and with only less than their crown of
martyrdom, because, though small boys are more malicious than men, they
cannot hit so hard.

On one occasion, brought to bay by a sophism, I answered unwisely, but
made a good friend. A little Southerner (a