Now here was an unforeseen difficulty; the boat was not going; the
clerk was not there; all on the other boat were strangers. But
forward they must go, trusting in Providence. As they walked down
to the boat, a gang of lazy white men standing together, began to
make comments on their appearance.

"Too many likely looking Niggers traveling North, about these
days." "Wonder if these wenches have got a pass." "Where you
going, you two?" Tilly trembled and cowered, and clung to her
protector, but Harriet put on a bold front, and holding the note
given her by her friend in her hand, and supporting her terrified
charge, she walked by the men, taking no notice of their insults.

They joined the stream of people going up to get their tickets,
but when Harriet asked for hers, the clerk eyed her suspiciously,
and said: "You just stand aside, you two; I'll attend to your case
bye and bye."

Harriet led the young girl to the bow of the boat, where they were
alone, and here, having no other help, she, as was her custom,
addressed herself to the Lord. Kneeling on the seat, and
supporting her head on her hands, and fixing her eyes on the
waters of the bay, she groaned:

"Oh, Lord! You've been wid me in six troubles, _don't_ desert me
in the seventh!"

"Moses! Moses!" cried Tilly, pulling her by the sleeve. "Do go and
see if you can't get tickets now."