I was to begin life a stranger in a strange
land, without a friend, or a penny, or any clothes but those I had on my
back. I had not any advantage on my side in the world--not one, except
good health and the lack of any necessity to waste any time or anxiety on
the watching of my baggage. No, I forget. I reflected that I had one
prodigious advantage over paupers in other lands--I was in America! I
was in the heaven-provided refuge of the oppressed and the forsaken!
Just as that comforting thought passed through my mind, some young men
set a fierce dog on me. I tried to defend myself, but could do nothing.
I retreated to the recess of a closed doorway, and there the dog had me
at his mercy, flying at my throat and face or any part of my body that
presented itself. I shrieked for help, but the young men only jeered and
laughed. Two men in gray uniforms ( policemen is their official title)
looked on for a minute and then walked leisurely away. But a man stopped
them and brought them back and told them it was a shame to leave me in
such distress. Then the two policemen beat off the dog with small clubs,
and a comfort it was to be rid of him, though I was just rags and blood
from head to foot. The man who brought the policemen asked the young men
why they abused me in that way, and they said they didn't want any of his
meddling.
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