[Footnote 2:  Editor’s Note to Dover Edition:  James Monroe (1821-1898), a New Englander with a Quaker mother; in 1839 he became an Abolitionist lecturer instead of enrolling in college.]

[Footnote 3:  Editor’s Note to Dover Edition:  Abigail Kelley Foster (1811-1887), who married another Abolitionist, Stephen Foster, in 1845, was a Quaker orator and organizer on behalf of the abolition of slavery and for women’s right to vote.]

Douglass had plunged into this new work, after the first embarrassment wore off, with all the enthusiasm of youth and hope.  But, except among the little band of Garrisonians and their sympathizers, his position did not relieve him from the disabilities attaching to his color.  The feeling toward the negro in New England in 1841 was but little different from that in the State of Georgia to-day.  Men of color were regarded and treated as belonging to a distinctly inferior order of creation.  At hotels and places of public resort they were refused entertainment.  On railroads and steamboats they were herded off by themselves in mean and uncomfortable cars.  If welcomed in churches at all, they were carefully restricted to the negro pew.  As in the Southern States to-day, no distinction was made among them in these respects by virtue of dress or manners or culture or means; but all were alike discriminated against because of their dark skins.  Some of Douglass’s abolition friends, among whom he especially mentions Wendell Phillips and two others of lesser note, won their way to his heart by at all times refusing to accept privileges that were denied to their swarthy companion.  Douglass resented proscription wherever met with, and resisted it with force when the odds were not too overwhelming.  More than once he was beaten and maltreated by railroad conductors and brakemen.  For a time the Eastern Railroad ran its cars through Lynn, Massachusetts, without stopping, because Douglass, who resided at that time in Lynn, insisted on riding in the white people’s car, and made trouble when interfered with.  Often it was impossible for the abolitionists to secure a meeting-place; and in several instances Douglass paraded the streets with a bell, like a town crier, to announce that he would lecture in the open air.

Some of Douglass’s friends, it must be admitted, were at times rather extreme in their language, and perhaps stirred up feelings that a more temperate vocabulary would not have aroused.  None of them ever hesitated to call a spade a spade, and some of them denounced slavery and all its sympathizers with the vigor and picturesqueness of a Muggletonian or Fifth Monarchy man of Cromwell’s time execrating his religious adversaries.  And, while it was true enough that the Church and the State were, generally speaking, the obsequious tools of slavery, it was not easy for an abolitionist to say so in vehement language without incurring the charge of treason or blasphemy,—­an old trick of bigotry and