Freedom of opinion in the South upon this subject is not tolerated for a moment, and no honest anti-slavery man was safe for an hour in that section.  But as I was only a youth, they were willing to suppose I knew but little of the subject, and I thought that they were satisfied I was not a dangerous resident of their State.  While things were in this condition I concluded to write to my parents, who I knew were anxious to hear from me; but I dared not direct a letter to New York, and hence inclosed it in an envelope to a friend near Louisville, Kentucky, with the request that he would “hand it to my father as soon as convenient,” not doubting that he would direct and mail it to New York.  In this letter, cautiously written, I remarked, “This is a hard place to live in, as I had to ride ten miles to get paper and ink to write this letter;” an unfortunate statement, as will soon appear.  The letter was deposited in the post-office on April 16th.  I went home, and, as if urged by a guardian, though warlike, spirit, cleaned up my two six-shooters, and, after examining my ammunition, laid them away unloaded.  On the night of April 17th, 1861, I was awakened out of a sound sleep about 11 o’clock by three men, who requested me to accompany them to Jeffersonville, a small town on the St. Francis river, eight miles distant.  These men I had often met.  One of them I regarded as a good friend, and had some confidence in the other two.  I asked for time to dress and get ready, which they cheerfully granted.  I carefully loaded and capped my “Navies,” and saddling my horse started with them, like Paul, “not knowing what was to befall me there,” but I fear without much of the spirit of the good apostle, of whom I had learned in the pious home of my childhood.  I soon found these “carnal weapons” essential safeguards in that place, though if I had been an apostle I might not have needed them.

On the way to town my friend Buck Scruggs—­he deserved a better name—­asked me to ride forward with him, and gave me this information and advice.  “You are now going to be tried by the Phillips County Vigilance Committee on suspicion of being a Northern man and an abolitionist.  When you reach the grocery where they are assembled, seat yourself on the counter in the back part of the room, where if you have to defend yourself they cannot get behind you.  Make no studied defence, but calmly meet the charges at the fitting time and in brief words.  Keep cool, and use no language which can be tortured into an offensive sense, and if possible I will save you.  If the worst comes, draw your pistols and be ready, but don’t shoot while ever there is hope, for you will of course be killed the instant you kill any one else.”