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. There are men living on this road who
are constantly on the look-out for your people; and it is seldom that one
escapes them who attempts to pass by day."

He then very kindly gave me advice where to turn off the road at a certain
point, and how to find my way to a certain house, where I would meet with
an old gentleman who would further advise me whether I had better remain
till night, or go on.

I left this interesting young man; and such was my surprise and chagrin at