But now behold the change! Eleven days and a half gone, and I have crossed three thousand miles of the perilous deep.
Instead of a democratic government, I am under a monarchical government.
Instead of the bright, blue sky of America, I am covered with the soft, grey fog of the Emerald Isle.

I breathe, and lo! the chattel becomes a man.

I gaze around in vain for one who will question my equal humanity, claim me as his slave, or offer me an insult.

I employ a cab--I am seated beside white people--I reach the hotel--I enter the same door--I am shown into the same parlor--I dine at the same table and no one is offended.

No delicate nose grows deformed in my presence.