"Enough," said the Englishman; "I see you can use tools." Boyd, however, proceeded to dress a board in a very able and workmanlike manner, while the journeymen from a long line of benches gathered around with looks that bespoke a deep personal interest in the matter. "You may go to work," said the master of the shop, right glad to employ so good a workman. The words had no sooner left his mouth than his American journeymen, unbuttoning their aprons, called, as one man, for the settlement of their wages. "What! what!" said the amazed Englishman, "what does this mean?" "It means that we will not work with a _nigger_," replied the journeymen. "But he is a first-rate workman." "But we won't stay in the same shop with a _nigger_; we are not in the habit of working with _niggers_." "Then I will build a shanty outside, and he shall work in that." "No, no; we won't work for a _boss_ who employs _niggers_. Pay us up, and we'll be off." The poor master of the shop turned with a despairing look to Boyd--"You see how it is, my friend; my workmen will all leave me. I am sorry for it, but I can't hire you." Even at this repulse our adventurer did not despair. There might still be mechanics in the outskirts of the city who had too few journeymen to be bound by their prejudices. His quarter of a dollar had long since disappeared, but, by carrying a traveller's trunk or turning his hand to any chance job, he contrived to exist till he had made application to every carpenter and joiner in the city and its suburbs. _Not one would employ him._ By this time, the iron of prejudice, more galling than anything he had ever known of slavery, had entered his soul. He walked down to the river's bank below the city, and throwing himself upon the ground, gave way to an agony of despair. He had found himself the object of universal contempt; his plans were all frustrated, his hopes dashed, and his dear-bought freedom made of no effect! By such trials, weak minds are prostrated in abject and slavish servility, and stronger ones are made the enemies and depredators of society; it is only the highest class of moral heroes that come off like gold from the furnace. Of this class, however, was Henry Boyd. Recovering from his dejection, he surveyed the brawny muscles that strung his Herculean frame. A new design rushed into his mind, and new resolution filled his heart. He sprang upon his feet and walked firmly and rapidly towards the city, doubtless with aspirations that might have suited the words of the poet: "Thy spirit, _Independence_, let me share, Lord of the lion heart and eagle eye."