No bird ever let out of a cage felt more like flying, than I felt like running.
Before I left the city, I chanced to find by the way, an old man of color.

Supposing him to be a friend, I ventured to make known my situation, and asked him if he would get me a bite to eat.

The old man most cheerfully complied with my request.

I was then about forty miles from the residence of Wm.

Gatewood, where my wife, whom I sought to rescue from slavery, was living.