CHAPTER VIII—THE NEW SIMON LEGREE
HARRIS immediately resigned his office in the custom house which he owed to Lowell and began a search for employment.
“I will not be a pensioner of a government of hypocrites and liars,” he exclaimed as he sealed his letter of resignation.
And then began his weary tramp in search of work. Day after day, week after week, he got the same answer—an emphatic refusal. The only thing open to a negro was a position as porter, or bootblack, or waiter in second-rate hotels and restaurants, or in domestic service as coachman, butler or footman. He was no more fitted for these places than he was to live with his head under water.
“I will blow my brains out before I will prostitute my intellect, and my consciousness of free manhood by such degrading associates and such menial service!” he declared with sullen fury.
At last he determined to lay aside his pride and education and learn a manual trade. Not a labour union would allow him to enter its ranks.
He managed to earn a few dollars at odd jobs and went to New York. Here he was treated with greater brutality than in Boston. At last he got a position in a big clothing factory. He was so bright in colour that the manager never suspected that he was a negro, as he was accustomed to employing swarthy Jews from Poland and Russia.
When Harris entered the factory the employees discovered within an hour his race, laid down their work, and walked out on a strike until he was removed.
He again tried to break into a labour union and get the protection of its constitution and laws. He managed at last to make the acquaintance of a labour leader who had been a Quaker preacher, and was elated to discover that his name was Hugh Halliday, and that he was a son of one of the Hallidays who had assisted in the rescue of his mother and father from slavery. He told Halliday his history and begged his intercession with the labour union.