great insecurity and loneliness.  I was yet liable to be taken back, and subjected to all the tortures of slavery.  This in itself was enough to damp the ardor of my enthusiasm.  But the loneliness overcame me.  There I was in the midst of thousands, and yet a perfect stranger; without home and without friends, in the midst of thousands of my own brethren—­children of a common Father, and yet I dared not to unfold to any one of them my sad condition.  I was afraid to speak to any one for fear of speaking to the wrong one, and thereby falling into the hands of money-loving kidnappers, whose business it was to lie in wait for the panting fugitive, as the ferocious beasts of the forest lie in wait for their prey.  The motto which I adopted when I started from slavery was this—­“Trust no man!” I saw in every white man an enemy, and in almost every colored man cause for distrust.  It was a most painful situation; and, to understand it, one must needs experience it, or imagine himself in similar circumstances.  Let him be a fugitive slave in a strange land—­a land given up to be the hunting-ground for slaveholders—­whose inhabitants are legalized kidnappers—­where he is every moment subjected to the terrible liability of being seized upon by his fellowmen, as the hideous crocodile seizes upon his prey!—­I say, let him place himself in my situation—­without home or friends—­without money or credit—­wanting shelter, and no one to give it—­wanting bread, and no money to buy it,—­and at the same time let him feel that he is pursued by merciless men-hunters, and in total darkness as to what to do, where to go, or where to stay,—­perfectly helpless both as to the means of defence and means of escape,—­in the midst of plenty, yet suffering the terrible gnawings of hunger,—­in the midst of houses, yet having no home,—­among fellow-men, yet feeling as if in the midst of wild beasts, whose greediness to swallow up the trembling and half-famished fugitive is only equalled by that with which the monsters of the deep swallow up the helpless fish upon which they subsist,—­I say, let him be placed in this most trying situation,—­the situation in which I was placed,—­then, and not till then, will he fully appreciate the hardships of, and know how to sympathize with, the toil-worn and whip-scarred fugitive slave.

Thank Heaven, I remained but a short time in this distressed situation.  I was relieved from it by the humane hand of Mr. DAVID RUGGLES, whose vigilance, kindness, and perseverance, I shall never forget.  I am glad of an opportunity to express, as far as words can, the love and gratitude I bear him.  Mr. Ruggles is now afflicted with blindness, and is himself in need of the same kind offices which he was once so forward in the performance of toward others.  I had been in New York but a few days, when Mr. Ruggles sought me out, and very kindly took me to his boarding-house at the corner of Church and Lespenard Streets.  Mr. Ruggles was then very deeply engaged in the memorable Darg case, as well as attending to a number of other fugitive slaves, devising ways and means for their successful escape; and, though watched and hemmed in on almost every side, he seemed to be more than a match for his enemies.