My first business, after my arrival at Indianapolis was to find a boarding place in which I at once succeeded, and in a few hours thereafter was at a place of service of my own choice. I had always been under the yoke of oppression, compelled to submit to its laws, and not allowed to advance a rod from the house, or even out of call, without a severe punishment. Now this constant fear and restless yearning was over. It appeared as though I had emerged into a new world, or had never lived in the old one before. The people I lived with were Unionists, and became immediately interested in teaching and encouraging me in my literary advancement and all other important improvements, which precisely met the natural desires for which my soul had ever yearned since my earliest recollection. I could read a little, but was not allowed to learn in slavery. I was obliged to pay twenty-five cents for every letter written for me. I now began to feel that as I was free I could learn to write, as well as others; consequently Mrs. Harris, the lady with whom I lived, volunteered to assist me. I was soon enabled to write quite a legible hand, which I find a great convenience. I would advise all, young, middle aged or old, in a free country to learn to read and write. If this little book should fall into the hands of one deficient of the important knowledge of writing, I hope they will remember the old maxim:--"Never too old to learn." Manage your own secrets, and divulge them by the silent language of your own pen. Had our blessed President considered it too humiliating to learn in advanced years, our race would yet have remained under the galling yoke of oppression. After I had been with Mrs. Harris seven months, the joyful news came of the surrender of Lee's army and the capture of Richmond. Whilst the country's hearts were throbbing, Filled with joy for victories won; Whilst the stars and stripes were waving O'er each cottage, ship and dome, Came upon like winged lightning Words that turned each joy to dread, Froze with horror as we listened: Our beloved chieftain, Lincoln's dead War's dark clouds has long held o'er us, They have rolled their gloomy fold's away, And all the world is anxious, waiting For that promised peaceful day. But that fearful blow inflicted, Fell on his devoted head, And from every town and hamlet Came the cry our Chieftain's dead. Weep, weep, O bleeding nation For the patriot spirit fled, All untold our country's future-- Buried with the silent dead. God of battles, God of nations to our country send relief Turn each lamentation into joy whilst we mourn our murdered chief.