Virginia. We were still _slaves_, and yet we had so much greater chance
to learn from the kind, intelligent people about us, so many things which
we never knew before, that I think a slave-trader would have found it a
difficult task to take any one of us to a Southern slave market, if our
master had so ordered it.

The village of Bath is rather an out-of-the-way place, hemmed in on all
sides by mountains of considerable height, leaving an opening on the
north, through a pleasant valley, to the head of Crooked Lake. Produce
of every kind, when once there, met a ready sale for the New York market.

In the first settlement of the country this was the only outlet for the
country produce, which was transported in rude boats or vessels called
_arks_, built during the winter season to await the spring freshet; then
they loaded them with wheat or other produce, and sent them to Baltimore
or elsewhere. They used also to obtain great quantities of fine lumber,
and floated it through the same rivers every spring; but it was attended
with great loss of life and property.

Bath assumed a warlike appearance during the last war with Great Britain;
the public square was dotted all over with officers, marquees, and
soldiers' tents. Some of these soldiers were unprincipled and reckless
men, who seemed to care very little what they did.

One evening I was walking around the encampment in company with a Mr.
James Morrison, a clerk in the land office, looking at the soldiers, until
we came near a sentinel on duty. He kept his gun to his shoulder until we
came near enough, and then he attempted to run me through with his
bayonet. Young Morrison sprang forward, and seizing the musket, told me
to run; I did so, which probably saved my life.