All was going on as peaceably as usual, and I had taken my seat to commence my daily toil, when a loud knock was made at my front door. I answered it myself, when the face of an officer presented itself, who inquired who lived up stairs. I replied that I alone occupied the house. He then asked if Mrs. Douglass lived there. I told him that I was Mrs. Douglass. He said, “You keep a school.” “Yes, sir,” was my reply. “A school for colored children?” I answered, “yes.” “I must see those children,” said he. I then demanded what business he had with them, or with anything in my house. He replied, that he had been sent by the Mayor. “Very good, sir,” said I, “walk in, and you shall see them;” and, without giving my daughter or the children any notice, I invited him up stairs into the school-room. Never will I forget the frightened state of those children, and the countenance of their young teacher. My daughter sat paralyzed, covering her face with her hands; and it was some time before I could restore order in the room. Some were crying, some exclaiming “Oh my! oh my!” and some clinging around me in their terror; but, during the excitement, I never lost my presence of mind. As soon as I had restored quiet in the room, I inquired of Mr. Cherry, the City Constable, what he wanted with those children. He replied, that he must take them before the Mayor. “Very well, sir,” said I, “my daughter and myself will accompany them.” To my astonishment, he went to the head of the stairs and gave a loud rap with his club, when another officer made his appearance, entering from my back door. For the moment I thought that my house was surrounded with officers, who perhaps fancied that they had found a nest of thieves. They then noted down the names of all the children, as well as those of their parents. When they had finished, I politely informed Mr. Cherry that they were all free children, and all, or nearly all, members of the Christ’s Church Sunday-school. “It makes no difference, madam,” he replied, “it is a violation of the law to teach any person of color to read or write, slave or free, and an act punishable by imprisonment in the penitentiary.” “Very well,” I replied, “if they send me to the penitentiary, it will be in a good cause, and not a disgraceful one.” Even this information, which was the most profound news to me, did not unnerve me at all: for I remembered that our Saviour was persecuted for doing good, and why should not I be. This thought strengthened me to bear my own persecutions for ten long months afterwards.