There were ten of us in our family, including our father. Our mother departed into the beyond when we were very small. Our father was an easy-going man. Any way would do for him. Whatever _was_ was right. Whenever I told him that I wanted to go to school he would answer, "You know what the boss says." But I would reply, "Father, he can't _make_ me stay here." That was to him a piece of foolishness and he would turn away and say nothing more. At last I saw that I must do my own thinking and plan my own way of leaving. For ten years school was my chief thought. Every day I saw myself turning from the old plantation to what was for me the land of freedom and opportunity. It was years before the opportunity came. One night I said to my father, "I am going to leave on the first day of May if it costs me my life." For the first time he seemed to realize that I was in earnest. Then he said, "If you leave me you will travel in my tears." That was a horrible thought to me so I did not leave then nor until several more years had gone by, ten in all from the time I first began to think about school. Finally, one night I said to him: "This is the third and last time I shall tell you I want to go to school. You hindered me for years by telling me that I would be travelling in your tears. That will not answer any longer." When he saw that the blaze had never died out he said: "My son, these may be right thoughts that have come to your mind and their power may lead you to a good end, yet they may be the ruin of you. I would rather follow you to your grave than see you captured and brought back to be punished by these hateful laws they have on these plantations. God will change things after a time and then it may be you can go to school in safety." I saw then that my poor father wanted me to go to school but was afraid I would be punished if I did, as he had known others to do. I said I was going to risk it anyway. As the appointed time drew near he was very sorrowful. Never shall I forget the night of parting. After he had pronounced a benedirection upon me he said: "May you ever be happy." I had really started upon my journey. I had a sack of gingerbread which I did not want to bother with but that my dear sisters persuaded me to carry with me. When daylight appeared I knew it would not be safe to keep the road so I planned out a road of my own. When I came to the spring into which Ponce de Leon had plunged to regain his lost youth I sat down and ate all the bread I could and left the rest. How often afterwards I wished for it!