My master lived eighty miles from Baltimore.

I was now sixty-two miles from home.

That distance in the right direction, would have placed me several miles across Mason and Dixon's line, but I was evidently yet in the state of Maryland.
I ventured to ask the lad at the gate another question--Which is the best way to Philadelphia?
Said he, you can take a road which turns off about half-a-mile below this, and goes to Getsburgh, or you can go on to Baltimore and take the packet.
I made no reply, but my thought was, that I was as near Baltimore and Baltimore-packets as would answer my purpose.
In a few moments I came to the road to which the lad had referred, and felt some relief when I had gotten out of that great public highway, "The National Turnpike," which I found it to be.
When I had walked a mile on this road, and when it had now gotten to be about nine o'clock, I met a young man with a load of hay.

He drew up his horses, and addressed me in a very kind tone, when the following dialogue took place between us.
"Are you travelling any distance, my friend ?" "I am on my way to Philadelphia." "Are you free ?" "Yes, sir." "I suppose, then, you are provided with free papers ?" "No, sir.

I have no papers." "Well, my friend, you should not travel on this road: you will be taken up before you have gone three miles.