When two weeks had passed without any apparent effect of evil example upon Grandison, Dick resolved to go on to Boston, where he thought the atmosphere might prove more favorable to his ends.  After he had been at the Revere House for a day or two without losing Grandison, he decided upon slightly different tactics.

Having ascertained from a city directory the addresses of several well-known abolitionists, he wrote them each a letter something like this:——­

Dear Friend and Brother:——­

A wicked slaveholder from Kentucky, stopping at the Revere House, has dared to insult the liberty-loving people of Boston by bringing his slave into their midst.  Shall this be tolerated?  Or shall steps be taken in the name of liberty to rescue a fellow-man from bondage?  For obvious reasons I can only sign myself,

A Friend of Humanity.

That his letter might have an opportunity to prove effective, Dick made it a point to send Grandison away from the hotel on various errands.  On one of these occasions Dick watched him for quite a distance down the street.  Grandison had scarcely left the hotel when a long-haired, sharp-featured man came out behind him, followed him, soon overtook him, and kept along beside him until they turned the next corner.  Dick’s hopes were roused by this spectacle, but sank correspondingly when Grandison returned to the hotel.  As Grandison said nothing about the encounter, Dick hoped there might be some self-consciousness behind this unexpected reticence, the results of which might develop later on.

But Grandison was on hand again when his master came back to the hotel at night, and was in attendance again in the morning, with hot water, to assist at his master’s toilet.  Dick sent him on further errands from day to day, and upon one occasion came squarely up to him—­inadvertently of course—­while Grandison was engaged in conversation with a young white man in clerical garb.  When Grandison saw Dick approaching, he edged away from the preacher and hastened toward his master, with a very evident expression of relief upon his countenance.

“Mars Dick,” he said, “dese yer abolitioners is jes’ pesterin’ de life out er me tryin’ ter git me ter run away.  I don’ pay no ’tention ter ’em, but dey riles me so sometimes dat I ’m feared I ’ll hit some of ’em some er dese days, an’ dat mought git me inter trouble.  I ain’ said nuffin’ ter you ‘bout it, Mars Dick, fer I did n’ wanter ‘sturb yo’ min’; but I don’ like it, suh; no, suh, I don’!  Is we gwine back home ‘fo’ long, Mars Dick?”

“We ’ll be going back soon enough,” replied Dick somewhat shortly, while he inwardly cursed the stupidity of a slave who could be free and would not, and registered a secret vow that if he were unable to get rid of Grandison without assassinating him, and were therefore compelled to take him back to Kentucky, he would see that Grandison got a taste of an article of slavery that would make him regret his wasted opportunities.  Meanwhile he determined to tempt his servant yet more strongly.