first wife were
already divorced, but not morally; and therefore it was arranged
between the three that he should live only with the lastly married
wife, and allow the other one so much a week, as long as she requested
his assistance.

After staying at St. John's two days, the steamer arrived, which took
us to Windsor, where we found a coach bound for Halifax. Prejudice
against colour forced me on the top in the rain. On arriving within
about seven miles of the town, the coach broke down and was upset. I
fell upon the big crotchety driver, whose head stuck in the mud; and as
he "always objected to niggers riding inside with white folks," I was
not particularly sorry to see him deeper in the mire than myself. All
of us were scratched and bruised more or less. After the passengers
had crawled out as best they could, we all set off, and paddled through
the deep mud and cold and rain, to Halifax.

On leaving Boston, it was our intention to reach Halifax at least two
or three days before the steamer from Boston touched there, en route
for Liverpool; but, having been detained so long at Portland and St.
John's, we had the misfortune to arrive at Halifax at dark, just two
hours after the steamer had gone; consequently we had to wait there a
fortnight, for the Cambria.

The coach was patched up, and reached Halifax with the luggage, soon
after the passengers arrived. The only respectable hotel that was then
in the town had suspended business, and was closed; so we went to the
inn, opposite the market, where the coach stopped: a most miserable,
dirty hole it was.

Knowing that we were still under the influence of the low Yankee
prejudice, I sent my wife in with the other passengers, to engage a bed
for herself and husband. I stopped outside in the rain till the coach
came up. If I had gone in and asked for a bed they would have been
quite full. But as they thought my wife was white, she had no
difficulty in securing apartments, into which the luggage was
afterwards carried. The landlady, observing that I took an interest in
the baggage, became somewhat uneasy, and went into my wife's room, and
said to her, "Do you know the dark man downstairs?" "Yes, he is my
husband." "Oh! I mean the black man--the NIGGER?" "I quite
understand you; he is my husband." "My God!" exclaimed the woman as
she flounced out and banged to the door. On going upstairs, I heard
what had taken place: but, as we were there, and did not me