After dinner Mr. Durham went with me in quest of the friends I had spoken of.  They went from my native town, and I anticipated much pleasure in looking on familiar faces.  They were not at home, and we retracted our steps through streets delightfully clean.  On the way, Mr. Durham observed that I had spoken to him of a daughter I expected to meet; that he was surprised, for I looked so young he had taken me for a single woman.  He was approaching a subject on which I was extremely sensitive.  He would ask about my husband next, I thought, and if I answered him truly, what would he think of me?  I told him I had two children, one in New York the other at the south.  He asked some further questions, and I frankly told him some of the most important events of my life.  It was painful for me to do it; but I would not deceive him.  If he was desirous of being my friend, I thought he ought to know how far I was worthy of it.  “Excuse me, if I have tried your feelings,” said he.  “I did not question you from idle curiosity.  I wanted to understand your situation, in order to know whether I could be of any service to you, or your little girl.  Your straight-forward answers do you credit; but don’t answer every body so openly.  It might give some heartless people a pretext for treating you with contempt.”

That word contempt burned me like coals of fire.  I replied, “God alone knows how I have suffered; and He, I trust, will forgive me.  If I am permitted to have my children, I intend to be a good mother, and to live in such a manner that people cannot treat me with contempt.”

“I respect your sentiments,” said he.  “Place your trust in God, and be governed by good principles, and you will not fail to find friends.”

When we reached home, I went to my room, glad to shut out the world for a while.  The words he had spoken made an indelible impression upon me.  They brought up great shadows from the mournful past.  In the midst of my meditations I was startled by a knock at the door.  Mrs. Durham entered, her face all beaming with kindness, to say that there was an anti-slavery friend down stairs, who would like to see me.  I overcame my dread of encountering strangers, and went with her.  Many questions were asked concerning my experiences, and my escape from slavery; but I observed how careful they all were not to say any thing that might wound my feelings.  How gratifying this was, can be fully understood only by those who have been accustomed to be treated as if they were not included within the pale of human beings.  The anti-slavery friend had come to inquire into my plans, and to offer assistance, if needed.  Fanny was comfortably established, for the present, with a friend of Mr. Durham.  The Anti-Slavery Society agreed to pay her expenses to New York.  The same was offered to me, but I declined to accept it, telling them that my grandmother had given me sufficient to pay my expenses to the end of my journey.  We were urged to remain in Philadelphia a few days, until some suitable escort could be found for us.  I gladly accepted the proposition, for I had a dread of meeting slaveholders, and some dread also of railroads.  I had never entered a railroad car in my life, and it seemed to me quite an important event.