I have traveled for miles over swamps, where the roads were covered with logs, without any dirt over them, which has sometimes shook and jostled the wagon to pieces, where we could find no shop or any place to mend it.  We would have to tie it up with bark, or take the lines to tie it with, and lead the horse by the bridle.  At other times we were in mud up to the hubs of the wheels.  I recollect one evening, we lectured in a little village where there happened to be a Southerner present, who was a personal friend of Deacon Whitfield, who became much offended at what I said about his “Bro.  Whitfield,” and complained about it after the meeting was out.

He told the people not to believe a word that I said, that it was all a humbug.  They asked him how he knew?  “Ah!” said he, “he has slandered Bro.  Whitfield.  I am well acquainted with him, we both belonged to one church; and Whitfield is one of the most respectable men in all that region of country.”  They asked if he (Whitfield) was a slaveholder?

The reply was “yes, but he treated his slaves well.”

“Well,” said one, “that only proves that he has told us the truth; for all we wish to know, is that there is such a man as Whitfield, as represented by Bibb, and that he is a slave holder.”

On the 2d Sept., 1847, I started from Toledo on board the canal packet Erie, for Cincinnati, Ohio.  But before going on board, I was waited on by one of the boat’s crew, who gave me a card of the boat, upon which was printed, that no pains would be spared to render all passengers comfortable who might favor them with their patronage to Cincinnati.  This card I slipped into my pocket, supposing it might be of some use to me.  There were several drunken loafers on board going through as passengers, one of whom used the most vulgar language in the cabin, where there were ladies, and even vomited!  But he was called a white man, and a southerner, which made it all right.  I of course took my place in the cabin with the rest, and there was nothing said against it that night.  When the passengers went forward to settle their fare I paid as much as any other man, which entitled me to the same privileges.  The next morning at the ringing of the breakfast bell, the proprietor of the packet line, Mr. Samuel Doyle, being on board, invited the passengers to sit up to breakfast.  He also invited me personally to sit up to the table.  But after we were all seated, and some had began to eat, he came and ordered me up from the table, and said I must wait until the rest were done.

I left the table without making any reply, and walked out on the deck of the boat.  After breakfast the passengers came up, and the cabin boy was sent after me to come to breakfast, but I refused.  Shortly after, this man who had ordered me from the table, came up with the ladies.  I stepped up and asked him if he was the captain of the boat.  His answer was no, that he was one of the proprietors.  I then informed him that I was going to leave his boat at the first stopping place, but before leaving I wanted to ask him a few questions:  “Have I misbehaved to any one on board of this boat?  Have I disobeyed any law of this boat?”