"Colonel Buckner, I do not acknowledge this to be the work of an abolitionist, This was a selfish, unprincipled man; he was making himself rich, and probably was taking Jack down the river, and would have kept on selling him, and dividing, until he would have sold him for the last time, and then have taken from Jack all the money he had given him from these clandestine sales. I have no word of sanction to give to work like this; I should say his place was here in jail instead of Jack. If Jack had come to us hungry and naked, we should have fed and clothed him; and if sick with fatigue and footsore, we should have given him a ride toward Canada, if he wished to go there; but as for this man, I will not own him as an abolitionist. I repudiate his work altogether." "Oh, yes, he told Jack he was an abolitioner." "Then he was a hypocrite. I want to suppose a case for you to consider. Perhaps a fine appearing man comes into your city, attends your Methodist meetings, and calls himself a Methodist. He speaks well in your class meetings, speaks, prays, and sings in your prayer-meetings, and you became very favorably impressed with him as a Christian. He engages, perhaps, as clerk or bookkeeper in one of your large business houses across the street, and during three or six months appears so candid and punctual in all business transactions, that they confide to his care important business. But the opportunity arrives when he takes advantage of this confidence, and forges a draft of $3,000, and it is cashed, and he is off, never to be heard from again. Now as you learn of this dark deed, you have no idea of acknowledging that man as a Christian brother, have you?" "Oh, no, certainly not; we expect and know there are hypocrites." "So do we expect hypocrites in our abolition ranks; but because of counterfeit money we would not reject the true coin." In the evening I was introduced to Mr. Adams, of South Carolina, with whom we all seemed to enjoy free and easy conversation. He was quite pleased to find his servant Jack, and a secret thought stole over me that he was also pleased to get with him two or three times his value in gold. Sabbath morning Ben Franklin No. 2 packet came in, and I prepared to go to the boat, as the jailor said the sheriff had not yet returned from the country. Said the jailor: "I don't like to have you leave without seeing Fairbanks, as you are the only friend who has called on him. I have a great mind to assume the responsibility of just taking you into the jail a few minutes before you go." "I would thank you very kindly," I said, "if you think it prudent; but if not, I shall not urge you in the least." "I reckon there can be no harm done. Come on, we'll go," and I followed him into the jail, and he called for Fairbanks.