Soon after the scenes related in our last chapter, which had
harrowed up her very soul to agony, she met a man, (we would
like to tell you who, dear reader, but it would be doing him no
kindness, even at the present day, to do so,) who evidently
sympathized with her, and counselled her to go to the Quakers,
telling her they were already feeling very indignant at the fraudulent
sale of her son, and assuring her that they would readily
assist her, and direct her what to do. He pointed out to her two
houses, where lived some of those people, who formerly, more
than any other sect, perhaps, lived out the principles of the
gospel of Christ. She wended her way to their dwellings, was
listened to, unknown as she personally was to them, with patience,
and soon gained their sympathies and active co-operation.

They gave her lodgings for the night; and it is very amusing
to hear her tell of the 'nice, high, clean, white, beautiful bed'
assigned her to sleep in, which contrasted so strangely with her
former pallets, that she sat down and contemplated it, perfectly
absorbed in wonder that such a bed should have been appropriated
to one like herself. For some time she thought that she
would lie down beneath it, on her usual bedstead, the floor. 'I
did, indeed,' says she, laughing heartily at her former self. However,
she finally concluded to make use of the bed, for fear that
not to do so might injure the feelings of her good hostess. In the
morning, the Quaker saw that she was taken and set down near
Kingston, with directions to go to the Court House, and enter
complaint to the Grand Jury.

By a little inquiry, she found which was the building she