Douglass complied with his request, but Garrison had not arrived when the train pulled in. Douglass boarded one of the last cars and, sitting down close to a window, watched rather anxiously for his traveling companion. He did not notice the man who came up to the seat until he heard: “You there! Get out of that seat!” It came like the old-remembered sting of a whip. He had not heard that tone for so long. He looked up. The speaker was a big man. He had evidently been drinking. His face was flushed. “Get along up front where you belong!” “I have a first-class ticket which entitles me to this seat,” Douglass said quietly. The muscles along his back were tightening. “Why, you impudent darky!” “Oh, John, please!” Then Douglass saw that behind the man and, until that moment hidden by him, was a little woman, the thin, gray strands of her hair partly concealed by a poke bonnet, her blue eyes now wide with alarm. “Oh,” said Douglass, rising, “excuse me, madam. Would you like my seat?” The bully’s mouth dropped open. For a moment the unexpected words struck him dumb. “Why--why--I--” the woman stammered. “Shut up!” The man had recovered his breath. “Don’t talk to that nigger. I’ll knock his teeth down his black throat if he says another word.” Frederick smiled at the woman. “As I said, I have my ticket. But there are plenty of seats. I’ll gladly vacate this one for a lady.” He moved quickly, catching his assailant’s blow with a swing of his arm, and brushed past before the man could recover himself. Douglass went on down the aisle. Behind him the man cursed. “Oh, please, John!” the little lady protested. Out on the platform, Douglass walked into Garrison. They hurried into another car and the train moved off. “We’ll report the man when we reach the station,” said Garrison. Douglass shrugged his shoulders. “He was drunk!” was his only comment. The train pulled into Harrisburg about three o’clock in the afternoon. At the depot they found Dr. Rutherford, long-time subscriber to the _Liberator_, his sister-in-law, Agnes Crane, and several colored people awaiting them. One of the latter, a Mr. Wolf, proudly bore off Frederick Douglass to his home, while Dr. Rutherford took Mr. Garrison in tow. Harrisburg, capital of Pennsylvania, was very much under the influence of slavery. The little group of Abolitionists had struggled valiantly against odds. They had obtained the Court House for the Saturday and Sunday evening presentations of their two speakers. Heretofore, antislavery lecturers had drawn only a few anxious listeners. This Saturday evening the Court House was filled to overflowing, and crowds had gathered in the street in front of the building. Mischief was brewing. Outside, mounted horsemen mingled with the crowd, and inside the hall seethed with tense expectancy.