A few evenings after that, we heard that a company of South Carolinians had camped near Mr. May’s house.  Father said they had probably come after either himself or Caleb May.  So he went up to Mr. May’s, to see what to do about it.  After he left, uncle nailed shakes over the window, and cleaned up his old flint-lock musket, and loaded it carefully.  Aunt moulded bullets, while mother got the ax and butcher knife, and then stuffed rags in the cracks, and brought in the half-bushel to turn over the light, so that they could not see where to shoot.  Then we all took turns standing out in the darkness at the corner of the house, to keep watch, and listen for the sound of guns from Mr. May’s.  Father came home at eleven.  He said the South Carolinians had asked permission to sleep in an empty cabin.  He and Mr. May had followed them, and he had crept under the cabin floor and listened, and they had seemed to be sleeping soundly.  So we all went to bed, but father slept with a revolver under his head, which Mr. May had insisted on lending him.  The next morning the South Carolinians went quietly on their journey.  We learned afterwards that they were on their way to lay out the town of Marysville, in Marshall County, and did not know that they were in the same neighborhood with Pardee Butler and Caleb May.

Father wrote an account of the Atchison mob, and took it to Lawrence to be published in the Herald of Freedom. The Congressional Committee summoned him to give his testimony.  While there, the Lawrence people gave him a pistol, and insisted that he must carry it.  Father told us how the Carolinians had sworn to kill him, when they heard his testimony before the Committee; and as soon as he heard they were coming back, after the destruction of Lawrence, he knew that he was in danger.  Brave as he might be, he saw no good in allowing himself to be butchered by those infuriated men, and resolved to keep out of their way.  He kept his horse picketed on the grass near where he was at work, with saddle and bridle close by.  One day as I was helping him drop sod corn on uncle’s claim—­two miles from our own—­while uncle worked at his new cabin, we saw some horsemen coming over the hill.

“They are South Carolinians,” said father, and saddling his horse, he rode in the opposite direction.  In the afternoon he came back, saying that they had followed him all day, and he had circled here and there over the hills, and he had happened to meet two of them, one at a time, and recognized them as some of the men who had mobbed him; and they knew him too, but they had not dared to attack him single-handed.  He thought they were trying to get together, to attack him the next time they saw him.-He wanted uncle to change coats and hats with him, so that, if they saw him in the distance, they would not know him.  He wore a black coat and hat, and uncle wore a white palmleaf hat, and had with him, in case of rain, an old-fashioned, light gray overcoat.  These father