We started with the brightest visions of future independence; but soon they were suddenly dimmed by one of those unpleasant incidents which annoy the fugitive at every step of his onward journey.
The first place at which we stopped to rest was a village on the old York road, called New Market. There nothing occurred to cause us alarm; so, after taking some refreshments, we proceeded towards York; but when near Logansville, we were interrupted by three white men, one of whom, a very large man, cried,—
"Hallo!"
I answered,—
"Hallo to you!"
"Which way are you travelling?" he asked.
We replied,—
"To Little York."
"Why are you travelling so late?"
"We are not later than you are," I answered.